


Breach

by Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Fix-It, canon could have used a better editor so here comes ma girl, teenagers being dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Some things are meant to be broken. Piñatas. Glow sticks. Bad diets. Smoking habits. Records. Rules. The oppressive military regime of a two and a half thousand year old system that governs the world of the dead. It's a good thing, then, that I am a master of breaking things.





	1. Don’t you know I’m starving?

Prologue:

_Don't You Know I'm Starving_

_The universe is large, ineffable, supermassive, and flawed beyond all comprehension. Mistakes happen._

 

 

Dying was never the plan. I was _supposed_ to live a long and prosperous life as a fiscally stable individual with a house, a car, maybe a family, and definitely a dog.

But then… Well… The details don't really matter, do they. Because here I am, lying in a hospital bed hooked into beeping machines and medical drips and dying.

I'm _dying._

I can hear my family talking. Hushed whispers. Broken please and sobs. Time passes like a dream. Days feel like seconds, contracting into pinpricks of loneliness and fear, before expanding seconds stretching for an infinity and fury and grief fill my bones.

They are going to pull the plug. They haven't talked about it, but I know it's coming all the same. They are saying goodbye.

Don't know you I'm still here? I rage against the confinements of my failing mind. I spit and hiss and curse. How can you do this to me? Don't you know I can hear you?

Please don't. I'm not ready to go yet. I haven't had enough. Lived enough. Seen enough. It's not _fair._

I didn't feel the respirator switch off, but the burning liquid fire that ran from my chest to my toes, to my fingers, to a body I hadn't felt in weeks, told me I was dying. I can feel myself slipping.

Slipping through my skin like sand and silk.

I don't want to die.

…

…

…

I'm starving.

How can a dead person starve? I don't know. I can't think. I'm so _hungry_.

The sensation claws up my throat –what throat, I have none- like bile. My universe contracts around me, knives in my soul, in my guts.

If I were alive I could eat.

I want to be **alive** _._

…

…

…

Small one, I am sorry. I don't want to go. But don't you know I'm starving?

I'll devour you whole.

 

 


	2. Yesterday (I was so clever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punch first, questions later.

 

I was born on July 17th, 19 minutes after my sister.

Name: Arisawa Tomoe.

Hair: Black.

Eyes: Brown.

Special Skill: I can survive Death.

* * *

"Tatsu, tatsu!" I chant at my twin, wobbling over to where she's sitting. My pudgy fingers wrap around the banister railing as a support. She squeals as I approach and pushes herself backward, sliding easily on the floors.

"Not gun get me, Tomo!" She giggles, as I flounder after her on my stubby legs.

"Oh yeah?" I retort, throwing myself at her and landing just shy of her feet. I poke her toes and laugh at her shrieks. "Y'ur it!"

I roll away, forgoing walking for the much faster action of crawling until I reach the couch. I use it to haul myself to my feet before pattering down the hallway pursued by my sister who also scrambles to her feet.

"Catch me if you can, Tatsuki!" I call over my shoulder and scamper into the kitchen to hide.

My parents watch in amusement as Tatsuki tears into the room after me. My mother is leaning against the kitchen counter, a protein shake in her hand and her training gi still on. Dark strands escape her ponytail and her eyes crinkle. It's hard to tell, but I think both Tatsuki and I get out looks from her. We have the same black hair and sharp grins. Tatsuki also has her brown eyes, but I have Dad's grey ones.

My father is in front of the stove, stirring something in a large pot. Oh, I hope its curry. Dad makes the best curry, and I'm hungry.

"Up, up!" I demand, pulling on my mother's pants. She acquiesces with a chuckle. One of my hands twists into her gi for a better grip and I pat her cheek. "Thank you!"

"No fair!" Tatsuki says, "I can't reach you. Y'ur too high!"

I stick my tongue out. "That means I win and you lose."

"Don't be rude," my mother chastises and blows a raspberry into my shoulder. I squeal at the ticklish sensation.

"I'm not rude. I'm right." I say with all the authority my 2-and-a-half-year-old voice can muster.

It clearly isn't very much because my mother leans over to pick up Tatsuki too, allowing my sister to slap a hand on onto my face. "Tag!"

I laugh at the satisfied look on my twin's face and let her have the win. Look at all that maturity.

* * *

Mother takes Tatsuki and I to the bakery down the road that we frequent. It is a homey place with wooden counters and tables and always smelled of fresh bread. Big glass display cases hold the myriad of breads, pastries, and cakes.

A bell above the door tinkles when I push it open, leading my families charge into the small store. "Good Morning!" I say to the staff behind the counter.

The young boy at the cash register returns my greeting with a bob of his head, black eyes flash from behind bleached blond locks. "Hello Tomoe-chan, how are you today?"

"Good!" I say, leaning on my tiptoes to see over the counter. "You need a haircut, Daisuke-san."

He laughs. "Is that so? Hello Arisawa-san and little Tatsuki-chan." He greets my mother and sister.

"Yes so. Tats, tell him!"

Tatsuki nods decisively. "You do. Y'ur hair's so long its brown on top." She tells him, matter of factly.

He laughs again wiping his hands against his green apron. "I guess you're right."

"We're always right," I say.

"It's our s'perpower," Tatsuki adds, before attaching her face to the display case.

The second person, an older mousy lady with salt and pepper hair and a sharp western features leans over the display case to watch us with amusement. She's odd but nice. She's almost always at the bakery, behind the counter or in the kitchen. Sometimes she even sits at one of the corner tables in front of a cold cup of coffee that I've never seen her drink, but she always smells of it anyways. She must drink a lot of the stuff when we aren't here.

"I wan' that one," Tatsuki points at a swirling pastry covered in icing and cinnamon. It looks pretty good. But I came here for a brownie and I won't leave with anything less.

"Brownie, please!" I add my order to Tatsuki's.

"Anything for you two," Daisuke agrees after mother nods her consent.

Then something odd happens. Without pausing, or even acknowledging his coworker, Daisuke reaches over to the other side of the case to slide open the door, right _through_ the small woman. A hole in her abdomen disperses in small fuzzy particles around his arm before reforming when he removes his hand to grab a pair of tongs.

My jaw must have dropped or something, because Daisuke laughs again. "That's a funny look, Tomoe-chan. Do you like the new sliding doors that much?"

Oh, yes, they did have hinge doors before didn't they. What an irrelevant detail to remember right now. I nod absentmindedly and lean over to whisper in my sister ear. "You see the lady right?"

She shoots me puzzled look. "Lady? Ami-san only works Wed-nes-days and th'rsday."

"No." I hiss back, "The one right there."

Tatsuki looks at me lost for a moment before, "Oh! We have a new friend," she announces. "Mama, she's a lady. Bakery lady. With a crown." She frowns for a second. "Tomo, do ladies wear crowns?"

I'll take that as a 'no', she doesn't see the lady right in front of us. I shrug. "I don't know." I let Tatsuki flesh out the rest of our imaginary friend that she thinks I made up. Tatsuki tells me that Rei-hime, she was named, has an army of lizard samurai and a fan that's as tall as her because she hates the heat as she drags me out of the bakery behind her.

Boring conclusion: I'm going crazy.

Fun conclusion: My mind is so Matilda powerful that I can properly picture imaginary friends now.

I tell Tatsuki that Rei-hime she has grey hair and no fan but she might have a lizard army, and she smells like the best coffee on the planet. I wave at Daisuke on the way out, a brownie clenched in my fingers.

I try to move a pencil with my mind later that day and am very disappointed when the pencil refuses to budge.

* * *

I takes me another year to realize that the phenomenon I saw with Rei-hime wasn't just an over active imagination. I started noticing more and more oddities the longer look for them.

Some people don't quite walk right. They walk as if the floor isn't as solid as it is for me, some omit walking entirely in favor of hovering over the ground. Others passed right through walls and doors without flinching.

It wasn't until I saw one young man crouched in the corner of a side street. Gaunt cheeks, round nose, and dark eyes stare sightlessly at passerby's. Blood covering his clothes and running up his sleeves. I didn't say anything, too scared by the sight. Instead I demanded my father pick me up and buried my face in his shoulder until we got home.

The news that night showed the young man's face. He committed suicide, slitting himself from wrist to elbow in an alleyway behind his apartment.

I saw a ghost.

I check the closet before I go to sleep, and then I check under my bed. Tatsuki follows suit and checks under hers, even though she doesn't know what I'm looking for.

I leave the lamp on, illuminating the walls in an orange glow and stretching the features of our room into imposing shadows. I can imagine bloodstained hands and pain skin reaching through the walls. I can see the dark tendrils of hair slither from the rooms corners. I turn the lamp off. I'd rather not see.

I can't fall asleep. Instead I lie completely still, staring at the ceiling and listen to Tatsuki's soft snores. Beyond the borders of the house I can hear the soft clanking of chains, the thumping footsteps of feet, and the screeches and wails of ghosts.

The roof creeks and I remember dying.

Was I like that? Pale and sickly and slipping through the walls like spiders.

I feel hollow.

* * *

I get over my ghost freak out surprisingly quickly. Must be that childish resilience.

The ghosts haven't done anything to hurt me or anyone I care about in the months since I realized they were ghosts, and they never did anything bad before then either. They are safe, if somewhat unnerving to see, but I've adapted.

I don't jump anymore when one drifts through a wall, nor do I shiver when I need to walk through one.

Tatsuki and I leave handpicked dandelions in the streets for the ones that haunt our neighborhood and we even bring Rei-hime incense. Daisuke told me that a woman died in the café after having a heart attack but it happened before he started working there. He's left for university now.

By the time Tatsuki and I turn 5, I have the whole ghost thing under control. I think my life is pretty good! Tatsuki and I even convinced our mother to let us start taking karate classes.

This, my friends, is when my life goes to hell.

You see, up until this point I've been operating under the idea that I got lucky and simply reincarnated into a child who was born the same moment I died. The dates lined up after all, and I didn't really think about it beyond that.

"Tatsuki, how do you tie the belt?" I hold the strip of white fabric towards my sister who hastily grabs it and wraps it around my waist.

"I can't wait until we get yellow belts. I'm gonna get it before you, you here." She babbles, "I heard you need to do 200 push-ups in a row to get a black belt. I can do 6, which is so many."

"Uhuh," I twist the belt until its comfortable. "I want a red belt. It's the prettiest."

"It's not about being the prettiest. It's about being the best," Tatsuki says.

"Well then I'll be the best with a red belt!" I say, before dashing away from Tatsuki to line up with the other beginner students to start the lesson.

Tatsuki jabs me in the side when she joins me. I grin at her.

"Are you two sisters?" The master approaches us before grabbing my arm and dragging me to the other side of the lineup. "You should practice with other people, that way you make some new friends, alright? Here," He nudges me towards another kid, "You'll be partners for today."

I pout at being separated from Tatsuki but turn to say hi to my partner anyway. He's a chubby little kid, a little shorter than me, with round cheeks, brown eyes, and the most obnoxiously ginger hair I've ever seen on an Japanese person before. I didn't even know hair _came_ in that color.

His eyes are focused on me but he's quiet. Maybe he's shy?

"I'm Tomoe," I say, skipping straight to my given name. I'm gonna punch this kid in the face before the hour is up, and I think is important he knows my name before I do that.

"My mum says its rude to use a person I just mets first name."

"Don't care," I say.

"But my mum—"

"Don't care 'bout your mum either. I'm Tomoe. Who're you. Its rude not to introduce yourself."

His mouth forms a little 'o' as he processes my argument. "Oh, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo."

Like the auto solve button on my solitaire app, everything falls into place. My sister Arisawa Tatsuki, the ghosts that haunt the streets and howl at night, and the town name, Kurakara.

I've been reborn in a shonun manga.

I punch Ichigo in the mouth.

* * *

I slide around my opponent's sloppy punch and use his forward momentum and outstretched arm to neatly flip him over my shoulder and onto the floor for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Yield?" I ask, offering my battered opponent an olive branch, even as I haul him to his feet. Mousy brown bangs are stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat and a beautiful purple bruise is blossoming on his flushed cheeks where I socked him earlier in our spa. His gi sat crookedly on his shoulders and his belt had loosened considerably.

In contrast to his disheveled appearance, I looked nearly as fresh as when todays karate practice started a short hour ago. This, I thought as I watched the mousy boy suck in big gasps of air, is what being totally outclassed looks like.

In all honesty, it wasn't his fault he was partnered with me. The only two in the dojo who could match me (with the exception of the master) were my sister and Ichigo. And even then, he's yet to ever beat either of us in a spar.

"One more round, Arisawa-san," the boy panted out, pulling himself into a starting position and I had to commend his dedication.

I nodded in acceptance and fell into my own pose. I didn't wait for him to strike first, and instead feinted to the left, my strong side. He reached out to counter but I dropped into a crouch, pulling his legs out from under him and completed a rotation back to my feet. My opponent lay, panting and slightly dazed on his back and I took that as a sign to end the spar.

"Good match, uhh," I pause.

"Akiyama Hokuto, and to you Arisawa-san" he reminds me, bowing.

"Thank you, Akiyama-san." I return the bow and leave the mat, waiting on the side of the room for Tatsuki to finish beating Ichigo into the mat.

"Hurry it up you two, or we're gonna be late for our first day." Ahh, never in the history of the universe has a child ever been so excited for elementary school. But my god, my brain is dying of boredom. I'm literally going to _die of boredom_ before the world kills me.

Tatsuki and Ichigo became fast friends, (despite my attempts to sabotage any interaction they had), which obviously means Ichigo and I became friends by association, (again, despite my attempts to sabotage any interaction we had). What? Can you blame me? I don't exactly want to be involved with the protagonist of a shonun manga where people _die_. But true to his status, he is stupidly charismatic, and after he got over the fact that I punched him on introduction, we too became friends.

Aka: I really couldn't resist his puppy dog eyes.

Anyway, today marks my recorded timeline of one year closer to when the manga timeline starts. But I can burn that bridge when I get there. No point stressing about the end of the world as I know it until then. I mean, I'm six. There really isn't much I can do.

It's not like I'm even likely to develop any spiritual powers. Tatsuki didn't develop any in the manga and she spend a lot of time around Ichigo. Even though I can see ghosts, I don't think that's enough to help me generate super hollow killing powers. Like I said, I'll burn that bridge when I get there.


	3. Today (I know better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignorance is a choice.

That bridge comes very fast, which is weird to say considering I spent an entire year convincing myself I had plenty of time to sort things out.

Turns out, I did not have enough time to sort anything out.

And… well…

Ichigo's mum is dead.

It's… There wasn't anything I could have done. I mean, hell, I haven't even seen a hollow before. But I still feel a little responsible.

I could have talked to Ichigo. Maybe I should have told him that I could see ghosts too. I could have warned him or _something_.

But I didn't. I didn't want to change the plot too much, and saving Masaki would not only have changed the plot, but would have directly impacted the development of the _protagonist_.

I didn't really expect it to take so long for Ichigo to get over his mother's death though. It's been months now, and he hasn't been back to the dojo even once. He goes to the river and walks up and down and back up again. Over and over. I think he's hoping to see Masaki's ghost.

She's not there, I know. Sometimes Tatsuki or I join him. We can't bring her back, but we can remind him that other people still care about him and want him to get his shit together.

Is that harsh of me? It sounds like it's a bit harsh.

Whatever, he really needs to start going to classes again or he's going to end up a year behind us.

And I really need a plan to keep everyone alive in this upcoming war.

It's fine though, I still have six more years to come up with something.

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! I DO **NOT** HAVE SIX YEARS!

I FUCKED UP!

I FUCKED UP SO BADLY, HOLY SHIT, WHERE DID MY SIX YEARS DISAPPEAR TO!

OOOOOOOOOH, FUCK!

"H-Hello, Kuchiki-san… Nice to meet you…" I plaster my best fake smile onto my face as I greet the Shinigami.

"Oh! It's so nice to meet you to, uh…"

"Arisawa Tomoe," I bow slightly. Manners are important, my mum always said.

"Ah, Arisawa-san! Please treat me well!" She simpers.

 _Fuck me_ , _I am so screwed_. "Tomoe-san is fine, Kuchiki-san, there are two Arisawa's in this class after all," I offer, practically on autopilot.

Kuchiki Rukia isn't exactly what I was expecting. She's _very_ pretty, for one, with long dark eyelashes and inhumanly violet eyes that could pass for grey under minimal scrutiny. Her silky hair curls at her shoulders, and I can tell, even through her uniform that she is very fit. Like, she could probably deadlift me as easily as I could deadlift her. Which is saying a lot considering she's nearly five inches shorter than I am. And her grip strength is crazy, no wonder Ichigo blanched so hard when they shook hands, she probably crushed his dainty little fingers (don't let his delinquent looks fool you, he's a baby).

Behind her, Ichigo fumes quietly. His face is screwed up in a grimace (which is an expression only mildly different from his usual scowl) and his ears have turned pink. If I didn't know better, I would have though Ichigo had a crush. But I do, and this shinigami has made my friend very uncomfortable.

Probably not as uncomfortable as I am because I am _fucking terrified_. I mean how did I manage to blow six years without coming up with a plan?! Ok, ok, rapid planning sesh needs to happen, stat.

Still shell-shocked, I step around her and past Ichigo toward my seat near the window. "You look constipated," I tell him. He scowls at my insult, and leaves to introduce Rukia to the others.

I need a game plan, and I needed it yesterday. I mean, I still don't even have a method of fighting hollows! I haven't even seen a hollow!

Oh, well that's not quite true. I've seen the little hollows, the lizards, birds, and other small animal-like ones that seem to end up in Kurakara. They are mostly harmless and get out of the way when I'm around. And if they don't scram fast enough a good kick typically destroys them, but they are nothing like the monsters I sometime hear roaming the streets at night.

Rukia finishes introducing herself to the other students sitting around Ichigo before dragging the ginger out of the room. Poor boy, he doesn't even know his life is about to go to shit. Wow.

I really should just avoid all this if I can. Hmm. Maybe I can get Tatsuki and I expelled. It won't be great for my university prospects but it would get us out of harm's way. Or maybe a year studying abroad?

I shake my head and sit down hard in my seat, ignoring Mizoru's chatter about the new girl. I shouldn't leave everyone behind though. Tatsuki would never forgive me if I let anything bad happen to Orihime. Ah. I guess I'll have to include her in my plans.

Damn, what a pain.

"Tomoe-chan?" Orihime knocks a cheerfully beat on my desk, "What do you think of Kuchiki-san?"

"Hmm?" I rest my cheek in my palm and shrug lightly. "She seems aright. She sure moves quick, though."

Keigo laughs at my slight.

Orihime cocks her head at me in confusion. "Moves pretty quick? I don't know. She looked like she walks at a normal pace to me."

"I was referring to her accosting poor boys in the hallway. Better move quicker, Orihime, or Ichigo might end up off the market before you get a shot," I tease, only slightly in mockery.

Tatsuki swats me on the back of the head. "Don't be rude."

I shrug again, before extending an apologetic hand to Orihime and ruffling her hair slightly, "I mean: I'm sure you can woo him, Hime-chan."

Orihime flushes in embarrassment, but doesn't get the chance to stutter out a retort before the teacher calls the class to attention.

Ichigo and Rukia only return to class a period later and that certainly sends the gossip wheel spinning. "Ooh," I whisper in Orihime's ear, "They're already having quickies in a broom closet."

Hmm. Maybe I can convince them to elope and leave Kurakara and all its accompanying nonsense can leave with them. Ha. That'll be the day.

* * *

 

"Where do you think Kuchiki-san goes every day for lunch?" Orihime asks, holding her bento out towards me. "Want to try, Tomoe-chan?" The smell wafting sends my eyes watering.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Orihime. I don't really like spicy food very much," I turn down her offer. "And I'm pretty sure she's gone and broken into the boys' club. She probably sits on the roof with Ichigo and stuff. We can check it out tomorrow." I suggest, taking a bite of my own lunch. I can't avoid Ichigo forever, after all… Uh. And as for my plan… Well… Imma wing it.

"Yosh!" Tatsuki pumps her fist in the air, "Let's break up the boys' club!"

Chizaru shudders, "I'll pass. Thanks. Some of those guys are too intimidating for me. After Sado-san had all those accidents, I can't help but think that they must be trouble magnets."

Michiru nods in agreement, "Plus I heard they got in a fight with Oshima-san again. Kurosaki-san is scary. I don't know why you'd want to spend any time with him at all." She shoots a look at me Tatsuki, "ah, not that I'm judging your friendship with him or anything, you guys knew each other since you were little. I'm sure he's nice to you…" She trails off.

Tatsuki tries to wave her off but Chizaru cut in, "Yeah, Sado-san even has a tattoo! Is that even legal?"

"Chad's a cool guy, Chizaru," Tatsuki says, "you shouldn't be so harsh. And if Kuchiki-san gets along with them all, I don't see a problem with it."

Chizaru rolls her eyes, unapologetic. "Don't you usually go sit with them, Tomoe-chan? Why have you been hanging out with us, recently."

"Rukia has replaced me," I joke.

"Speaking of," Orihime rushes to the classroom window, "I smell Ichigo," she says.

"What are you, a bloodhound?" Tatsuki asks.

Orihime puts her foot on the windowsill for better leverage.

"Stop flashing the quad!" Tatsuki adds, "And this is the third floor, even if you could smell him, he's not going to come in through–"

She cuts off in a small scream when Ichigo appears in the window. On the third floor. Oh Tatsuki already pointed that out? Yeah, just driving it home. We're on the third floor and he "jumped, it's no big deal for me," he says.

He looks at the cluster of girls around the desks, it clicks suddenly. Duh, this is Kon. He hops off the window ledge and lands on my table, a hand around Orihime's shoulders. "Hello lovely lady," he moves to press his lips against her knuckles but I interrupt.

My hand fists into the back of his shirt and I pull him off the table and away from Orihime. "Oi, Ichigo. Didn't you go have lunch with Rukia? Don't tell me you ditched her, she'd be upset if you didn't wait for her." I try to subtly get him to back off.

"Oh, you're pretty cute too," he says, completely bulldozing over me, and his face was way too close. It's moments like this when I'm reminded that Ichigo is just on the puberty cusp of being really _really_ good looking. Which is a thought I need to _not_ be having ever, it'll be better for my mental health. Butgod could that boys' jaw could cut glass.

I stare at him, caught off guard, "Uuuuh."

Ichigo's body jolts backwards, dodging a desk. My sister stands fuming, already reaching for her next piece of furniture ammo. "Back off, why don't you!"

Orihime cowers behind Tatsuki, but the look on her face tells me that she too has realized something is off about Ichigo.

"Comedy gold," I say, watching Ichigo dodge another piece of furniture, "someone should film this for posterity purposes. Bust it out for his 21st."

Orihime giggles from her safe space behind my furious sister. Her ability to see the light in any situation is almost a redeeming feature.

Not-Ichigo jumps over another desk which joins the growing pile of abused furniture by the window. Shouldn't Rukia be here by now? She's really taking her sweet time and – Tatsuki sends a desk through the window.

That's going to be a black mark on her record for sure. Well… I tried to stick to canon but…

"Oi! You Mod Soul, stop antagonizing Tatsuki!" I snap, and almost immediately regret my word choice. Not-Ichigo is glaring at me and suddenly I am slung over Not-Ichigo's shoulder and watching the 3rd floor window disappears above my line of sight as we plummet to the concrete below. Orihime screeches from somewhere above me, and Tatsuki is leaning hallway out the window, eyes blow wide.

"Shit!" We hit the ground and Not-Ichigo's shoulder drives into my stomach, knocking the wind and what little lunch I ate out of me. I hope it got on his fucking shirt. He mightn't have felt the drop but I am definitely going to be bruised tomorrow.

"Hey, hey, put me down!" I rasp out, pounding a fist on Not-Ichigo's back and thrash.

"Put you down?" He asks, jostling me, elbowing me again. "Not a chance, Shinigami."

I pause in my struggle to get free, "Shinigami? I'm a human, you asshole! Not some mythical monster!" I protest. Shoot, I shouldn't have called him a mod soul. I was just trying to scare him off but this isn't a good situation for me. How the hell do I get out of this.

Not-Ichigo laughs, "You can't lie to me, Shinigami!" He glances over his shoulder, a scowl on his face and dodges off the main road and launches himself on to the balcony of the nearby middle school.

I scramble to my feet and put some space between us, automatically sinking into a defensive position. I'm probably not stronger then Not-Ichigo, but hopefully my training gives me enough of an edge to even us out if he decides to attack.

"Why'd you drag me up here for," I ask, and scan the roof. The railing is to my back and the only visible way off the roof is through a door twenty paces behind Not-Ichigo.

Not-Ichigo cocked his head to the side, an unusual gesture for Ichigo. "You've put me in a tricky spot." I narrow my eyes. "You see, there were so many cute girls in that classroom! But you're going to get in my way of kissing any of-" I nail my foot into his jaw which klicks shut angrily and probably (hopefully) caught his tongue.

I take the chance to sprint for the door. 10 feet from the door I hear a crack over the sound of my pulse and find myself on the floor. I really should have expected a counter attack. Grey concrete fills my field of vision and a roaring fills my ears.

Huh.

Nope. That's not the rushing blood. That's an actual roar.

Oh fuck me. What a day to be alive.

I roll over onto my back and quickly to my feet, eyes tracking to find the source of the noise.

Fuck. She's ugly.

Too many legs _and_ too many tongues. Dark chitin covers its millipede-like body and bone white mandibles protruded from the hollow's mask. From this distance I could tell that they were serrated and likely sharp as a razor, made more for shredding then slicing.

Oh my god. A stab of fear claws its way up my throat as the monsters' spiritual pressure prickles over my skin. I am going to die. Again. Never mind that in the pages of this story Ichigo arrives in the nick of time and even Kon can hold his own against a _weakling_ –the word hisses through my mind- like this. But I can't feel Ichigo at all. His spiritual pressure is usually a constant buzz, so thick in the air around him I can taste it in the back of my throat.

Now all I can feel is Kon and the hollow.

"Oooooh~ what a treat have I found today!" The hollow trills, mandibles shivering. "Two tasty little morsels for me to munch on!"

And just like that, the feeling of fear crumbles. A morsel? Me? HA! Fuck _that._

If I'm about to die I'm going to go out kicking and screaming. I could fight. I spent years learning how to throw a punch. I might not have powers, but I did have spiritual pressure. I had to if I could see the hollow.

I just had to use it. But my energy didn't work like Ichigo's. It just poured out of him effortlessly, fluctuating as he needed it. I felt like I was grasping at sand. No matter how hard I tried to grab it, it always fell through my fingers. But even throwing some sand in the eyes of this thing would help right now.

Kon is poised to my left, muscles tense and ready to defend himself. I slide into my own brace position and mentally grasp at my limited spiritual energy.

The giant hollow draws its heavy carapace fully over the terrace bannister, and I cringe when I realize that at the ends of each of the legs are human shaped hands. "Ooooh~" the hollow speaks again, "look at you go little girlie! So much POWER–" it lungs, dozens of fingers reaching for me.

I dive out of the way with a screech and Kon takes the opening offered by the hollows single-minded focus to drive a punishing heel into a crack between its armor. The hollow howls and a pair of hand wrap around his supporting ankle and launches him towards the terrace railing. His head collides with the metal and he slumps. Dazed. The creature's head whipped towards him to charge and its tail end whipped around into my ribs.

I stumble and grab at its back legs, dinging my heels in and throwing my whole body behind the weight of it, trying to sow it down as it barrels towards the downed mod soul. He's not getting _up._

And for a brief moment, the sand hardens to glass and I _pull_.

The cement tiles crack under my heels and the hollow jerks to a stop in my grip before my fingers slide through the chitin, slicing deep into the hollows body. It shrieks.

The mandibles slice through the air inches from my face and the glass turns back to sand. A tongue snakes out to grab me but Kon lands hard on its face, forcing its jaws to shut around its own appendage. The white bone easily severs the tongue and it writhes on the floor.

I feel drained and take a woozy step back as Kon launched into a barrage of attacks against the hollow. Something in the back of my mind is screaming but my vision is tunneling and my stomach cramps. My mouth waters so I spit.

Kon skids past me, screaming something but it sounds like it's underwater. All I can see is the hollow.

It roars, towering over me.

Vaguely, I hear myself roar back.

And suddenly a hand pulls me back and a bright flash of orange hair shoots past me, sunlight glinting off the blade in his hands. The millipede disintegrates like ash.

"Ichigo," I breathe, and take an unsteady step towards him. He's dark against the grey dust of the hollow but his reiatsu, a little colder than it used to be, draws a silver lining.

My mouth is still watering, oh god, am I about to throw up? Do I even have anything to throw up? No my stomach is empty, I didn't get to finish my lunch because of that rogue mod soul. And I threw it up already too. I'm famished now, all that running around and screaming.

I take another jerky step forward and my vision wavers a little. I feel lactic, like I've run a 5k at race pace.

"Arisawa-san!" A voice sounds too my left. Too close. Too _loud_. And his reiatsu- I whip around, "Look at Chappy!"

My vision fills with a flash-

-I wake up with my alarm blaring, Tatsuki banging on my door, and the vague wisp of the _weirdest_ dream tickling the back of my mind.


	4. Crack the Rosy Lens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willful ignorance is a rope necklace for your friends

Tomoe collapsed like a marionette with her strings cut, slumping face first towards the concrete roof. Ichigo rushed forward with an exclamation of alarm, but the strange man in the green hat caught her instead and gently lowered her to the ground. 

 

“What the hell!” Ichigo blurts, taking in the new arrivals unsure if he needs to start swinging his sword again. Rukia - visible in his peripheral vision – is calm. That’s probably an acceptable sign that his zanpakuto can stay sheathed.

 

The mod soul in his body also shoots Tomoe a concerned glance. He doesn’t have a chance to run before the blonde is upon him, cane poking firmly _through_ his body, and popping out a little pill. Ichigo’s body doesn’t get the same careful treatment as Tomoe’s. It hits the concrete hard, skull cracking against the floor. Ichigo can imagine the headache that’ll greet him when he returns to it.

 

The man carelessly snags the pill from the air, and without addressing either Rukia or Ichigo, turns to his eclectic following: a mismatched pair of children, both armed, and an older muscled man. “Well, Mission complete! Let’s go home guys!” He turns to the roof’s exit, tossing the pill carelessly in the air and catching it again. One of the kids complains for half a moment before following the man across the roof.

 

This all happens in the span of a few seconds, and it takes a moment for Ichigo’s brain to catch up. One thing at a time. Tomoe seems unharmed and she’s super tough, always has been for as long as he’s known her. She’ll be ok for a few minutes. The mod soul body thief, on the other hand, was in the hands of a shifty looking guy. Priorities. He’d get the mod soul back first, then check Tomoe.  

 

“Wha-wait! What are you gonna do with him?” He asks, before realizing the strange guy probably can’t see him. He looks to Rukia, imploring her to step in, and almost gags on his tongue when the man turns fully to face him. 

 

“I’ll dispose of it. Why?” the man’s shadowed eyes pin Ichigo in place. The rapid flop flop between somewhat a goofy looking guy (he’s wearing geta, a horribly ill-fitting green shihakushō showing a rather large amount of chest, and a bucket hat) to someone who somehow activates Ichigo’s fight or flight responses. 

 

Dispose of ‘it’? The mod soul didn’t even get a humane pronoun? If gender was the issue here, the guy could have used ‘they’. “Because he just spent that last few minutes fighting to protect my friend, you can’t just… kill him! Who the hell are you to make that decision anyway?!” 

 

Thankfully Rukia is on the same page. “Ichigo, this is Urahara. He’s a greedy salesman,” Rukia introduces only mostly mockingly, meaning the two of them were at the least familiar acquaintances. She grabs the soul pill from Urahara’s hand when he is distracted trying to correct her introduction to something more flattering. 

 

“K-Kuchiki-san! Don’t take that!” The man, Urahara’s, goofy disposition returns as he strikes an overly dramatic pose of surprise. His hands flex oddly as he belatedly realizes the pill didn’t land in his palm like gravity would normally dictate. 

 

“What, Urahara? Does your store steal items sold to customers without compensation?” Rukia pins him with a look Ichigo’s seen only on wealthy older women preparing to go ape on an unfortunate teen working in retail. 

 

“O-oh, well then, I’ll pay?” He offers immediately, folding to Rukia rather quickly. 

 

Ichigo has to appreciate Rukia’s talent of making men twice her size feel very afraid of her. Not that he was afraid of her of course! She was just a little intimidating. Sometimes. He doesn’t need shins anyways.

 

“No need,” Rukia’s smooth voice interrupts Ichigo’s train of thought. “We’re satisfied with the product. Besides, you are operating outside of the laws anyway, so you have no responsibility to collect him.”

 

“We will look the other way if trouble comes knocking.”

 

Ichigo thinks that statement is way too serious for the situation at hand. Not that he knows much about the spiritual business, that was definitely Rukia’s field of expertise. She could handle it. 

 

He turns his back on Urahara and his strange entourage, Rukia’s got it covered, so he can safety redirect his attention to Tomoe. She’s still firmly unconscious. From his few encounters with the memory replacer, starting with his own family, he knew she’d probably stay that way until the following morning. 

 

Ichigo is selfishly glad that Urahara wiped her memories. While he doesn’t necessarily agree it’s the right thing to do, it’s a relief that she won’t remember being kidnapped by his body tomorrow. That would be mortifying enough that he would have to tell her the truth about the whole Shinigami thing.

 

Tell her the truth…

 

Now isn’t that an idea. How many lies has he told his friends in recent weeks? When was the last time he even hung out with any his friends? Sure he saw Chad, Keigo, and Mizoru at lunch, but what about Tatsuki and Tomoe? He didn’t go to the dojo anymore. Maybe childhood friendships really didn’t last through high school. Between school work, hollow hunting, and keeping the whole thing a secret from everyone, he just didn’t have the time.

 

Ichigo crouches down next to Tomoe and quickly scans for injuries. Her black hair is messy and windswept from her third story kidnapping attempt. There’s a friction burn on her left knee, but it’s not bleeding anymore. Her white school shirt has ridden up a little in the scuffle, not that she was ever very good about tucking it in away - she’s gotten multiple dress code violations since he’s know her. The edge of a purpling bruise is visible across her lower abdomen. She’s had worse. Ichigo shoves a pair of calloused fingers against her neck, just to make sure. Her pulse feels normal. Strong and slow. 

 

“Oi, Rukia?” He calls her over after hearing the rooftop door clang shut, “will the memory thing explain the bruises?” 

 

Rukia crouches next to him and pulls up Tomoe’s shirt to expose the bruise a little more. Ichigo winces. That’ll hurt tomorrow.

 

“Probably. She’s Arisawa-sans sister correct? Didn’t you say the two of them get into fights pretty often?”

 

Ichigo scoffs and rocks into Rukia who barely budges despite his larger mass. “The last time Tomoe was banged up this badly it was eight on one and she gained instant fame the following day,” Ichigo cocks his each and thinks for a moment. “We were 13 and they were older.”

 

Rukia shoves him back and looks down at Tomoe for a second, “maybe it was ten this time?”

 

“Right.” He sounds sceptical. 

 

“The memory modifier is designed to align with a person's expectations. Remember Orihime-san? She recalled a bazooka being shot through her wall.”

 

“Which no one believed.”

 

“Tatsuki-san remembered a sumo-wrestler.”

 

“Tatsuki’s practical. A bazooka wielding wrestler shouldn’t and didn’t hold up.”

 

“Fine! It’s random, ok?” Rukia concedes. “It’ll be fine.”

 

Ichigo rolls his eyes and bumps Rukia again. He dodges away from a retaliatory slap and slinks over to his body, sitting into it without any difficulty. A headache explodes behind his eyes the moment he re-enters it. He squeezes his eyes closed tight and breaths deep until the nausea abates, then twists to his feet. He prods gently at the back of his skull, feeling for an egg. He has two. And his jaw is throbbing. And his back feels bruised. The mod soul really banged him up. The back of his pants are damp too… Is it… vomit? He twists to smell and gags slightly when the harsh tang of bile hits his nose. 

 

Rukia stands herself. “I’m going to find roadkill to put the mod soul in. You should take Tomoe-san home.”

 

“And say what exactly? It’s the middle of the day. She should be in school.”

 

“She’s your friend, isn’t she? Lie.” Rukia looks at his as though he’s dense. “Figure it out. I have to go while the memory of half your school now too. See you later.” She says with a wave over her shoulder. 

 

Ichigo scowls. “Whatever.” 

 

He picks her up without complaining any further to carry her home. It’s warm today, he notices absently as he makes his way to the exit. The skin under his collar is already starting to sweat. Heatstroke could be a good excuse.  

 

* * *

 

“We’re going to be late!” Tatsuki pounds on my door one more time before thumping down the stairs. My alarm is playing an unholy tune right into my ear.

 

“Elephant!”  I screech and cough when my voice comes out scratchy. My throats raw. Maybe I’m coming down with something? My whole body is pretty sore actually. Tender in that way that only coms

 

My clock blinks next to my bed. 7.34am illuminated in green neon. My alarm has been going off for 14 minutes. “Shit!” I really am going to be late! I fling myself out of bed. “Tatsu! Why didn’t you get me up sooner!”

 

Her laugh echoes up the stairs. “Hurry up!”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“Language,” My mother chides, pulling my door open just as I pull on my skirt.

 

I whirl around, shrieking. “Knock first!”

 

“Shush! I used to wipe your butt.” She hands me a clean white shirt. “Pressed this morning. And there’s something for Ichigo-kun on the kitchen table. Remember to thank him.”

 

I grumble out a thanks as I take the shirt. “Thank Ichigo for what? Mum?” I ask down the hallway. Her head is already disappearing down the stairs.

 

“For carrying you home yesterday!” She looks at me over her shoulder. “Remember to take care of yourself and stay hydrated, Tomo-tan! Not that it’s a bad thing to have cute boys carry you home but…”

 

“Mum!” I shriek, “Ew! Ichigo is-”

 

“Yeah, yeah!” She waves me off, “I’ve heard it all before!”

 

I grumble under my breath. Five minutes later I stumble down the stairs myself, teeth clean and hair somewhat organized. Tatsuki is leaning over the table, school shoes already on. Mum must have left for work while I was finishing getting ready.

 

“Here,” Tatsuki hands me a piece of toast, “because I am a good sister.”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“And that’s for I-chi-go-kuuuuun~” she mimes swooning and points at a small box on the table.

 

I just roll my eyes. “Stuff it, Tatsu, never gonna happen. Why the hell do I even need to thank him for.” I grab the box and give it a small shake to hear the contents rattle around.

 

“They’re cookies.” Tatsuki tells me, pulling open the front door. “Don’t you remember?”

 

Don’t I remember what? Yesterday… feels kind of like a blur actually. The morning was normal. Literature, then double maths, and history before lunch… then weird. I would have had homeroom and PE but…

 

“You got into a brawl over lunch with that Oshima dude that keeps gunning for Ichigo. Asshole burst right into the classroom,” my sister explains, obviously seeing my confused expression. “You put yourself between his goonies and Orihime, thanks for that, by the way.”

 

The memory floods back. The guy was a pain in everyone’s backside, honestly. Tatsuki and I had dealt with the orange haired wannabe yakuza moron before when Ichigo wasn’t around to sort his own problems out. Usually he kept it to outside of school grounds, or in the courtyard at the very least. Walking right into a classroom armed with pipes and switchblades was ridiculous.  

 

Ichigo would have been on the roof or something having lunch, which meant that the only people in the room were innocent bystanders. Of course, the moron had decided that breaking into a school with a mob would be the best time to try his luck with Orihime, and honestly, I couldn’t let that stand.

 

I may not like Orihime very much. Personally I found her a little too precious for my taste, but Tatsuki absolutely adored her. What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t step in and help her? Plus who just watches when someone is harassed? Girls need to protect other girls.

 

“Yeah, anytime.”

 

“Ichigo brought you home. You know how he can be about responsibility and all that.”

 

“Oshima knocked me out? What?!”

 

“Nah,” she snorts in amusement, “Ichigo told Mum the truth. I think you just hadn’t had anything to eat all day. You skipped breakfast and didn’t get to eat lunch. Probably forgot to have water too. You kinda just slumped over after it was over.”

 

“How embarrassing,” I mutter. It is weird though… Usually the building is quite cool from the air con. Cool enough that wearing a blazer or vest inside is usually comfortable. Was it broken yesterday? “Wait. So I fought one of Ichigo’s battles for him and he’s the one who gets cookies?”

 

Tatsuki laughs.

 

“Let’s eat them ourselves after school today,” I grin, shaking the box again before dropping it in my bag.

 

We walk in silence for a few minutes. The school is only fifteen minutes from where we live so we only barely need to increase our pace on the mornings one of us is running a little late. “Hey, Tatsu?” I break the quiet. “Now that Rukia-san and Ichigo are dating, do you think Orihime will start looking for someone else?”

 

Tatsuki stumble but recovers quickly, reflexes kicking in. “I- wha- Orihime isn’t- What?!”

 

I stifle a smirk at my sister’s expense. Her crush on Orihime was subtle for sure, but sister knows best and all that. I wasn’t going to tease her about it until she came to the realization herself. “I just mean… She’s had a crush on him for ages, and he’s never been interested. Probably the only guy in the entire school who doesn’t have a thing for her.”

 

She relaxes a little when she realizes I’m not targeting my conversation at her. “Ichigo is dense, he couldn’t land a date if he tried,” she grumbles.

 

“Are you sure? Him and Rukia-san are super cosy.”

 

Our gossip spirals from there as we enter the school gates and climb the stairs to the third floor. The wooden door rolls across the metal track and I step into the classroom. We’re still early, somehow.

 

My eyes flicker around the room, pausing on Ichigo’s form. He’s standing next to Keigo,leaning over Mizoru’s desk and reading something off a phone. Probably some gross text exchange Mizoru’s had with one of his girlfriends based on the look on his face. He glances up and waves slightly at us, when we make eye contact.

 

My memories, the real ones, hit me. I’ve been feeling off all morning. The scratchy throat. The bruises. There was no _gang fight_. It was a _hollow._

 

“Look, they aren’t even talking to each other,” Tatsuki whispers to me, eyes flickering between the epicentres of our gossip and forcefully drags me back to attention.

 

Rukia sits on the other side of her room with her face buried in what looks to be a horror manga.

 

“They go to lunch together all the time though.”

 

Tatsuki leans in as we skirt around Ichigo so he doesn’t over hear us. “The two pretend they barely even know each other.”

 

“I don’t buy it at all,” I stir the pot. “Poor Orihime. She’s just got no chance if Rukia is his type.”

 

Tatsukisighs.

 

“Dark hair, short, flat as a board,” I crack a teasing grin, and drop into my seat. “Sounds like you’re still in the running.”

 

Tatsuki flushes, “Shut up! Never in a million years!” and punches me in the arm. Her shout draws some attention but she waves our classmates off and hisses, “What about you, huh? Your hair is closer to Rukia’s length than mine.”

 

I just grin at her insinuation and dramatically run my fingers through the ends of my hair. “It’s a good thing I’m growing it out then.” I continue circling a strand of hair as I lean back in my seat, gaze settling on Ichigo.

 

Did Kon tell them about what I did? I blatantly outed myself as a spiritually aware human, that kind of thing doesn’t just get swept under the rug in this town. Kon isn’t exactly know for his subtlety either…

 

I don’t have a choice anymore. One way or another- Ichigo glances up and catches my eye, a pinched look, concern maybe, on his face- I've already stuck my foot in it.

 

 “Mornin’. How uh, how are you today?” Ichigo asks.

 

I consider the question for a second. Do I play dumb, or did Kon mention that I helped fight the hollow? Ugh. Knowing Kon he probably babbled everything.

 

In that case.... “I had a dream about you last night. You were waving your sword around.”

 

Ichigo flushes redder than his hair and Orihime’s head whips around so quick I heard her neck crack. Even Tatsuki chokes a little.

 

I let the comment sit for a half second before I add, “You fought a giant caterpillar monster that looked like something out of the Human Centipede.”

 

“Oh!” Orihime squeaks, realizing I wasn’t actually making an innuendo. “That sounds like a nightmare!”

 

I hum and watch Ichigo swallow uncomfortably, eyes fluttering around. He always was a mediocre liar. He should work on that.

 

“Nah, it was fine Orihime!” I smile at her, “Between my awesome karate and Ichigo’s kendo skills it was no problem. Really, it felt more like the kinda dream you talk about that the kind I usually have.”

 

Tatsuki huffs, “You’re weird, Tomoe.”

 

I wave my hand in a half-hearted rude gesture, eyes focusing forward and closing my mouth just soon enough to not be included in Ochi-sensei’s first rampage of the day.

  

* * *

 

“Kurosaki,” I jog up next to him as he leaves the school grounds on his way home for the evening. Tatsuki has karate club tonight and Rukia isn’t anywhere in sight, making now the perfect time to talk to Ichigo.

 

 I probably could have played dumb and just pretended that yesterday really was all a dream, but… I spent most of the day remembering. Writing down every scrap of information I could remember from reading Bleach nearly two decades ago. My knowledge has more than a few gaps. The general arcs I remembered, but the details were guesses at best. Estimations with process of elimination employed to guess what battles were fought and what the outcomes were. Powers and names and villainous plots outlined to the best of my limited memory. I couldn’t remember most of it. But… but I could remember Tatsuki.

 

She’s my sister, of course I could remember every single instance she was ever hurt. She’s the catalyst for Orihime’s powers. She’s there one two instances where Orihime uses her attack fairy. Tatsuki faces two arrancar. She’s in Kurakara when Aizen is loose. She’s already been injured by a hollow and I wasn’t even _there_. I _forgot_.

 

How shit of a sister does that make me? I could have done something and instead Tatsuki was hurt by Orihime’s brother and I didn’t even remember that it was going to happen. I didn’t notice that it happened at all! Tatsuki is defenceless. She’s a karate monster but that doesn’t protect her from hollows she’s never been able to see. She’s already been injured once and I can’t let that happen again. Orihime’s powers are incredible if I remember currently. But she’s soft at heart. Too kind to fight properly.

 

I can’t sit on the side-lines. Not when Tatsuki is the price I have to pay for sticking my head in the sand.

 

“Oi, Ichigo!” I call, louder, when he doesn’t hear me the first time.

 

He pauses and turns slightly, “Tomoe, uh, what’s up?”

 

“Walk with me,” I grab his arm on the way past, hauling him along until he falls into step with me.

 

“S-sure?”

 

Glancing over my shoulder once to check we are out of hearing range, I spot Tatsuki at the entrance to the gym already dressed in her training gi. Orihime is with her, also in her gi. Orihime is kind, competent, and it’s not _enough._ My resolve hardens.

 

“I’ve been able to see ghosts my whole life, you know? I know you can too. I’ve also been able to see those monsters.”

 

“W-w-what? Tomoe that’s-” he stutters out, eyes darting around.

 

 I keep my grip on his arm firm so he can’t make the stupid decision to bolt. “Crazy? Yeah it is. So is trying to fight them with a sword, but you seem to be doing ok with that.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou-“

 

I level a glare at him. “You’re a bad liar. I was there. I remember it. You are going to tell me everything.” And then you’re going to train with me so I can fight the hollows too. I’ll raise that later. If I ask now he’ll outright refuse because of his stupid hero complex. He’ll tell me it’s dangerous (as if I don’t know that) and then we’d have to have an argument about it. Which is just a waste of time considering I know I’ll win.

 

He looks at me for a long moment, assessing me. I stare right back, refusing to back down. Finally, he exhales. Shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Ichigo can be stubborn, but he’s honest and fair. “Fine I’ll tell you what I know.”

 

I nod once. “Good,” and then laugh, it’s a little forced but it helps lighten the mood a touch. “For a second I thought I was gonna have to beat the information out of you!”

 

He chuckles slightly, “Right,” and pauses. “Can I have my arm back now?”

 

My hand flexes slightly around his elbow and I realize I’m holding him hard enough that it probably hurts. “Oops,” I let him go.

 

He doesn’t run which is good. We walk in silence for a few minutes before I get impatient. “So?”

 

“So what?”

 

“So start talking!” I nudge him in the ribs. “What are those monsters.”

 

“Umm. You know Rukia right?”

 

I give him a flat stare.

 

“She’s sort of the expert on this stuff. She can explain it better than I can.”

 

“I guessed as much. It was a little weird for a transfer student to show up half way through the semester. It’s even weirder for you to make friends as quickly as you did with her. And she’s just strange in general.” I explain, trying to ease Ichigo into the conversation. “I’m asking you, not her though.”

 

“Ah. Yeah. She’s a little out of date,” his lips upturn in a small smile.

 

“What are the monsters?” I ask again as we turn the corner. Ichigo’s place is only a few blogs away, but the streets are empty enough that isn’t probably ok to talk openly like this.

 

His grin falls away and replaced a more serious expression that commonly graces his face. “They’re called Hollows. They’re the corrupted souls of people who aren’t able to move on.”

 

“And because they’re lost souls you stab them? Brutal. I always knew you were secretly a stab first talk second kinda guy.” I grin, taking the opportunity to tease Ichigo.

 

He defends, “No! The sword is for purifying them! I’m _helping!_ ”

 

“You _stab them_ , Ichigo. Stab them straight to heaven.” I jab him in the ribs, right where I know he’s ticklish.

 

He squawks and pulls an arm down to defend, smacking me in the shoulder with his bag in the same movement. For a moment, I’m reminded of the time before Rukia, when we all used to walk from school to the dojo. Tatsuki, me, and Ichigo closest to the street. Three bodies inconsiderately taking up all of the space on the sidewalk cracking jokes, sharing insults, and sneaking jabs and pinches through each other’s guards, occasionally brawling with the local thugs. I miss it.

 

“It’s not like that,” Ichigo pulls me from my thoughts. “if I don’t fight them and purify them then the hollows will eat normal souls. I’m a Shinigami. It’s my job to protect the spirits and make sure they move on.”

 

“Shinigami?” I ask, playing dumb. “In the Ningyō jōruri sense? Are you leading me to commit a double suicide? Bleach or lynching? Ooh, we could use the sword.”

 

Ichigo makes a weird face, halfway between a grimace and an awkward smile, forcing a laugh.

 

I roll my eyes. Ichigo was born in 1985. He does not appreciate my reincarnated millennial humour. “I’m joking dude. A Shinigami is more like a guardian right? From the Hollows. Do you help the spirits around town too?”

 

“You’re dark.”

 

“It’s not my fault you have no sense of humour.”

 

“I do too!”

 

“Clearly not enough to appreciate the prime gallows humour of being a 15-year-old Shinigami. Did Death come bang on your door one night and offer you a promotion?”

 

“Technically she stepped through my wall. I kicked her.”

 

“You kicked Rukia? Damn you really are a delinquent.”

 

“I thought she was a burglar! She had a sword!”

 

“Whatever you say! You gonna answer my question now?” We pause at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change and I take the chance to point at the small vase of flowers left on the other side of a road by mourning parents. It was a hit and run. The spirit of the little girl who used to be there hasn’t been around in ages. Without her presence, the air feels unusually devoid of reiatsu.

 

“Ah, yeah. I think Rukia sent her on to Soul Society before we met. I haven’t seen her around since I gained Shinigami powers. I do the same thing now.” We cross the road and start down the street towards the Kurosaki clinic at the other end of the block.

 

“Thanks good. I was worried when I started noticing less and less spirits hanging around.”

 

“Don’t worry, I sent them on. Perk of being able to see ghosts for so long, I guess. I know where all the spirits hang around, and a lot of them come to me at the clinic too. It’s a pain,” he shrugs, but the tiny smile lets me know he’s secretly glad to be able to help.

 

“How’d you end up a Shinigami anyway?” I finally ask as we round the last corner onto the Kurosaki Clinic’s block.

 

“Ah… To be honest, I don’t really understand it myself. A hollow attacked my family…” Ichigo trails off, eyes trained on the ground, “I was powerless to do anything. It had Yuzu.”

 

“Oi-” I elbow him- “don’t give me that sad bullshit. Yuzu’s fine. So is Karin, so don’t mope!”

 

“Hey!” My tactical distraction works and the downcast look evaporates in place of irritation. “Just listen!” He glares at me and I stick my tongue out but don’t interrupt again. “Rukia saved us by lending her powers to me. Except I can’t give them back, so she’s hanging around until hers return the natural way. Or something like that.”

 

“Ah, can I guess that this happened on the day the truck hit your house?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“I’m glad you’re all ok.”

 

“Yeah. Me too.” The sombre attitude returns for a second before he shakes it off, “Anyway! Rukia’s blackmailed me into doing her job for her. I don’t even get paid or anything,” he grumbles before shoving a hand in his bag to fish out his keys. “You wanna come in?” He offers as we turn onto the walkway to the front door.

 

“That was my plan,” I agree. “I still have more questions. Is your dad here?”

 

“Uh, yeah probably.”

 

“Cool, I’m going first. Chivalry and all that crap, right?” I slide in front of Ichigo and beam when he doesn’t bother protesting. I was not subtle in my opinions on how Isshin’s treated Ichigo most of his life. It’s not that Isshin didn’t love Ichigo, I’m sure he did, truly. It’s just that hes a bad father. At 15 years old, Ichigo’s done more to raise his sisters than Isshin did. And that’s not even touching on the constant paranoia Ichigo’s developed whenever his father is near in the event of a “surprise attack”.

 

Ichigo pulls the door open and I slide in, arm already up to deflect the high kick into the doorframe. In the same movement I swinging my leg out to sweep Isshin off his balancing foot and drop him onto the ground. “Ah, nice to see you Kurosaki-san!” I smile politely down at him, but don’t offer a hand to help him up.

 

“Stop doing that, bastard!” Ichigo yells from over my shoulder. “What if I brought someone home that couldn’t defend themselves?!”

 

Isshin ignored him and bounced to his feet. “Tomoe-chan! I haven’t seen you in so long! I had thought my idiot son had scared you and your sister off!”

 

“He hasn’t managed that yet.” I step past him and kick off my shoes to leave at the door. “We have some homework to do together,” I explain and step further into the house.

 

Ichigo follows me past Isshin. “We’ll be studying upstairs. Don’t bother us!” He ushers me to the escape route up the stairs and into his room, ignoring his father’s comments about keeping the door open. Fortunately, Isshin’s known me long enough that he doesn’t make any comments teasing Ichigo about having a girl over.

 

Ichigo slams the door shut behind us and stomps over to his bed, dropping his bag on the floor before flopping dramatically onto the mattress. “Sorry about him.”

 

I shrug, “not your fault,” and claim the desk chair as my own.

 

“You said you had more questions?” Ichigo readjusts so he’s sitting cross-legged facing me.  

 

I think for a moment. I don’t need any answers really. I know the gist of everything, probably more than Ichigo does if I’m being honest. There’s no point in grilling him. I can get more info from Rukia. What I really need is an introduction to Urahara though, which means there only one more thing.

 

“What happened to the thing possessing you yesterday? Did the weirdo in the hat…” I trail off.

 

“He’s alive, don’t worry,” Ichigo reassures me. “I didn’t let-” he pauses to think, lips moving soundlessly as he struggles to recall the name, “Utemaro? Uh. I forgot, but he’s the shopkeeper Rukia got Kon from. I didn’t let him take him.”

 

 

“Kon?”

 

“Kaizou Konpaku is what he is. So Kon is his name, cuz Kai sounds cool and he doesn’t deserve that after dragging my reputation though the mud.”

 

“I dunno, I kinda liked him. He was cute,” I tease.

 

“I-he-I he was in my body!” Ichigo wails, flushing. “You-“

 

I interrupt before he can jump fully to conclusions. “Yeah but you’re not cute at all. All mean and grouchy.”

 

“That’s why you like me!” He points a finger between my eyes, embarrassment turning to indignation.

 

“Is it?”

 

“HYPOCRITE!” He howls and I burst into laughter.

 

Ichigo joins me a moment later when I replicate his face and voice. It spirals from there until we are both gasping, heaving great big lung fulls of air, cackling over nothing particularly funny at all. Ichigo nearly tips himself off his bed at one point with the force of his laughter and that sends me into another fit.

 

It takes us several minutes to calm down again, and distantly I wonder how long it’s been since I last heard Ichigo laugh. He’s always so serious in public and now that he’s hollow hunting with every spare minute, he always seems too exhausted to even smile most days.

 

Ichigo’s been one of my best friends for years, and in the last few weeks it feels like our friendship was a fever dream – like it never happened at all. This is the first time we’ve spoken properly since he became a Shinigami. I miss this.

 

I’m not really a jealous person. Jealously is a stupid, useless emotion. But I won’t pretend there isn’t a little twist of something in my gut every time Ichigo blows me off for hollow hunting. Fuck. It’s _good_ to finally be on the same page again.

 

“Why are you smiling like that? You look dumb,” Ichigo interrupts my thoughts before they can degenerate into a depressing state.

 

I shrug a shoulder, slightly self-conscious, “shuddup. I’m allowed to just be happy.”

 

“Heh,” a teasing glint enters his eyes.

 

I roll mine and groan, “don’t fucking start.”

 

“I didn’t say anything!”

 

“I can see you think!” The banter flows easily and smoothely. I want to ignore the more serious matters in place of goofing off and arguing for the rest of the night over homework. (Ha! That’s how you know the worlds about to go to shit. When homework is the preferable option.) But I’m not a pussy and I’ve already avoided the issue for too long.

 

“Ichigo?”

 

“What?”

 

“When the hollow attacked your house…”

 

His attention focuses immediately, the grin exchanged

 

“You’d do anything to keep your sisters safe, right? Even fight monsters?”

 

Ichigo draws himself up. Even sitting across from me he feels large. His reiatsu clogs the whole room and shudders across my skin. If he feels like this to me and he’s barely a rain drop compared to the hurricane he’ll grow into… I need to do this for Tatsuki if not for anyone else.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.” His voice is unyielding.

 

“I’d do anything for Tatsuki,” I return, spoken like a promise.

 

He nods, “I know.”

 

“I need you to train with me, Ichigo. When I was up there with Kon-” I can feel my grip on the chair tighten and I force myself to let go- “I was useless. Tatsuki’s already been hurt before. I can’t let that happen again.”

 

“I would never let anything happen-“

 

“You can’t be everywhere! You aren’t always going to be _enough_!” I interrupt, my shout surprising the both of us.

 

“Tomoe-“

 

“No! You listen Ichigo-” I slam to my feet, scrapping the chair across the floor in my haste- “I need to do this. I need to know Tatsuki will be safe, that I can keep her safe. You did the same thing o don’t you dare tell me no.”

 

“Tomoe!’ I finally let him speak, “Okay. I’ll train with you, of course I will. If it’s this important to you-“

 

“-It is.”

 

“Then obviously I’ll help you.” He slides to the edge of the bed, annoyingly almost eye level with me even while sitting.

 

“You will?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?” He smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

 

I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment. Then two. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” I nod. “We’ve got this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m fuckin BACK! Yay! Round of applause for my returning motivation! 
> 
> I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have written SO MUCH for this story. The bad news is that its all LITERALY CHPTERS away from happening because its too far in the future. Sorry y’all. Bear with me!
> 
> Chapter info:
> 
> So, this is probably one of the times that I accidentally butchered the timeline. I pretty sure that Wasted But Wanted (the chapter with Kon) takes place on the 15thof June, and then the next day is the 16thwere Ichigo prepares to take the following day off for his mother’s anniversary. This isn’t really explicit, so I’ve just shoved an extra day in there and that’s were this chapter takes place. Nice!
> 
>  I'm thinking of including little Omakes at the end of my chapters. Would this be annoying or should i just go for it? Ill probably take little requests for these :)
> 
> As always, please leave a comment or question behind to motivate me into writing more!


	5. First Punch

Ichigo is an introvert at heart. 

He stays quiet in class and only answers when Ochi-Sensei calls on him. He doesn’t pass notes or whisper behind the teachers back. Sure, sometimes he gets lost in thought and caught staring out the window, but so does everyone. It’s not unusual.

He has only a small group of friends. He can count them on one hand. Chad, Tomoe, Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizoru.

They do things together sometimes. Usually sports – karate, soccer, and running - with the girls, and horribly awkward nights in a bar with Keigo and a Mizoru. Keigo figured out that the bars don’t ID him, he’s tall and has a resting bitch face enough to dissuade all but the bravest bouncers. Keigo’s never let him skip out since and Mizoru insists that he’s actually a decent wingman. At the least, the music’s always good. He’ll wander the streets with Chad for hours or pick fights. Chad makes for a good excuse with his ‘no fighting’ for Ichigo to morally get involved. His dad can’t be mad at him for fighting if it’s in someone else’s defence.

Together they have movie nights when something catches their eye, game nights when they’re on holiday, and in one particularly daring case, Mizoru produced a bottle of cheap whisky strong enough to peel paint. They camped out in the park sitting on their school jackets at 11pm and drank their way through all of it. Coughing, laughing, and playing never have I ever. Mizoru, they discovered, is a kinky bitch and has tried literally everything at least once. 

Usually though, they do homework. Ichigo goes over Tatsuki’s Japanese paper with a red pen and a wicked gleam in his eyes and repeats the process for Tomoe’s literature analysis. In return Tatsuki brutalizes his pre-calculus homework and Tomoe hands him a stack of unnecessarily detailed biology flash cards, gory drawings included free of charge. Chad offers to help them all with home econ, music, and Spanish but only Tomoe elects to take it. The rest switch to English. 

Keigo never comes because studying is “for fucking nerds who don’t know how to have fun”. Mizoru is rudely uninvited by Tatsuki when he makes one too many almost passes at her or her sister, even though he insists he’s just being friendly and he’s into older women anyway.

Outside of his insular group of friends, Ichigo doesn’t say much to anyone.

He knows what he looks like. Tall, ginger, and more often than not, covered in bruises with a shiner and split lip. He looks like a thug. A delinquent. So people stay away. That’s perfectly fine with him.

Sure. He’ll be polite if someone speaks to him, his mother taught him to use his manners after all, and he wants to set a good example for Yuzu and Karin. Especially Karin, who’s recently decided being feared is an aspiration. He doesn’t think his penchant to punch first ask second is helping her.

He chats with Tatsuki’s friend, Inoueu-san, even though he knows he makes her uncomfortable, and he talks the appropriate amount of shit with Keigo and Mizoru’s pals over lunch. He’s pretty sure that pair get all their street credit though association with him. Tatsuki firmly refuses to verbally acknowledge her friendship with them so they need a second source. He doesn’t mind because they give him an excuse to be into some nerdy things that wouldn’t normally fit his reputation.

Sometimes they’re all too much for him and he’ll rocket between home and school and back home as fast as possible to avoid the chatter. The sooner he can get back to the quiet comfort of his room with a book and a pile of blankets, the better.

Then Rukia happened.

Is happening.

Hurricane Rukia, or maybe Winter Storm Rukia. Whatever she is, she’s a force of nature.

She’s quite firmly ruined all of his routine. Uprooted his entire life in the span of 15 minutes. He doesn’t regret it. Not really. But…

For one she’s moved into his closet. His _closet_! Which means... look. Ichigo is a very healthy nearly 16-year-old boy and having an admittedly very cute girl in his closet is really very distracting All. The. Time. 

He’s not into Rukia or anything. She’s a hell beast. One with some really weird habits (she hordes food and takes three showers everyday with water hot enough to scald her skin), but she sprints from the shower to the closet in nothing but a towel some days and he wonders if this is what it would be like to have a girlfriend. If it’s just easy barbs, inside jokes, and occasional violence.

The illusion of domesticity shatters when she slams the closet door open at 2 am and orders him out of his body and into combat. He’s wondering how long it’s been since he could decide for himself how high he wanted to jump.

Rukia doesn’t see him as an equal. At best she views him as a subordinate and at worst a child.

(That’s not true. At worst she looks at him like a ghost. Like every time she sees his face he rips open a scab on her heart and she’s bleeding out. He doesn’t ask about it and she doesn’t mention it.)

He does like her, though, regardless. The real her that she shows at home in his room when she reads manga and asks him pop-culture questions. She’s easy to bicker with. Which he likes because he can’t bicker with his sisters more than he already does and he can’t bicker with his friends because he’s only got so much juice in his social battery. He can’t waste it on stupid arguments.

Maybe one day they can even be proper friends. Whenever he stops feeling like he’s got two left feet and the combat skills of a mosquito (annoying and in some instances deadly, but easily crushed once caught). He just... doesn’t know how to be friends with her. She won’t let him. She’s not like the boys who are easy and inappropriate and get closer though bad jokes, faux aggression, and locker room mockery.

Ichigo’s no good at making friends with girls either. Tatsuki and Tomoe are the exception because they’re closer to being one of the guys then the girls and he’s known them for years. More than half his life in fact.

Rukia’s a wild card because she’s a girl but she’s more like a drill sergeant or a general than a classmate. Except for when she’s in the classroom and she’s simpering and cutesy and weird. He can’t deal with it. He tried not to talk to her at all during the class day. But she always seems to corner him publically and it always looks like the big stupid thug cornering the demure sweet transfer student. At school, _she owns him_.

He hates it.

And that’s before he even gets to the whole hollow hunting thing. The hollows are...

His mother....

They....

Ever since he found out about Grand Fisher… The hollows seem a lot scarier. His dad made him to therapy after they found him catatonic under his mother’s corpse. He knows is a psychological reaction to trauma.

Rukia doesn’t really get it but she gives him the pathway to ignoring it. If he can kill it then he can’t be scared is her logic.

It works for him. His first response to everything since his mother’s death has always been to pick a fight. This isn’t really all that different if he thinks about it.

He never really had a “monster under the bed” problem as a kid. Things used to scare him, sure, but they were always very tangible.

He went on holiday once to Australia when he was a child and there was a shark alarm at the beach. Once he woke up with a spider on the pillow next to his face. One time he went to a circus and he thought the clown would follow him home. Scary but immature. Serial killers never bothered him. Neither did ghost stories. He could punt Chucky like a football.

Keigo once dared him to spend all night in the haunted hospital over Halloween, and except for the spirit near the entrance rattling his chains annoyingly, Ichigo slept like a baby.

The hollows scare him in a much more primal way. And he hates, hates, that Rukia got him involved with this all. Her bullshit rule about helping them all or none at all made sense. Damn it, he knows. Morally, if he has the ability to help, he should. He wants to. He really does. But at the cost of his own life? He didn’t sign up for that. He signed up to save Yuzu and Karin and Dad. That is _it._

The list of his friends who are involved keeps growing longer and longer.

First Inoue. Very much dead, held to her body only by a thin metal chain. Her brother nearly killed her and Tatsuki.

Then Chad, with a literal serial killer hollow after him and a boy trapped in a bird.

Now Tomoe. Tomoe who can go at it with the best of them but fuck he does not want her ever standing anywhere near a hollow.

It’s too late for that obviously. Fucking Kon and his fucking bad decisions. 

“Hey! If you think about it, I was doing you a favour! All those pretty girls in class and you aren’t dating any of them!”  

Year right, Kon did NOT do him a favour. If it wasn’t for those memory wipe machines, Ichigo would be so screwed.

Regardless. For a man whose name means “protector”, Ichigo feels like he’s doing a piss poor job.

He says he’d train with Tomoe. Of course he does, when she pulls his sisters and her sister into it. She’s right. It’s hypocritical of him to have the capacity to help (and maybe he knows he needs help too. He hasn’t slept enough in weeks. The bruises under his eyes are only reinforcing his delinquent reputation and he’s getting shorter and shorter and shorter with Keigo who somehow always seems to annoy him now days. Rukia seems to be getting stronger. So, so slowly.)

But.

But he doesn’t know how to help and Rukia refuses to even consider it. She says humans aren’t supposed to be involved in spiritual matters. (That does not bode well for them. Ichigo can be slow sometimes, but he’s not stupid. It’s a problem for another day). And a lot happened over his mother’s anniversary. It’s just been too much.

A week later, he still hasn’t made any effort to talk to Tomoe. He can only avoid her for so long. And that means that he gets exactly 7 days’ respite before Tomoe comes for him.

It’s after school. He’s walking home with Rukia for once. Usually she finds her own way home. She says it’s so that there’s no suspicious connection between them about where she’s living. Not that they aren’t already plenty connected as is. He’s pretty sure the rumour about them dating came directly from her mouth into Chizuru’s waiting grasp. Chizaru is notoriously loose lipped.

“The scandal!” He overheard Chizuru from the other side of the roof. “Our newest hot transfer is banging—“ 

“Shut up, Chizaru.” Tomoe rescued him and Tatsuki pinched her hard on the thigh when the bottle bought red-head started gyrating obscenely. 

Rukia just simpered and blushed, “Oh, I have no _idea_ what you’re implying.”

He received a lot of pats on the back that day by guys he’s literally never spoke to in his entire 10 years at this school. He played gay chicken extra hard after gym though just to try and maintain some control of the rumour mill. It didn’t work.

(“You can do whatever you want now that you have a girlfriend. We’re all immune!” Commented some mornon on the soccer team as Ichigo straddled Keigo, hands buried in his hair in nothing but his boxers. Even Keigo looked completely unfazed when Ichigo goes as far as to suck his earlobe gently between his teeth.)

Tomoe hits him out of nowhere. Not literally. Literally, she throws him. One second he’s walking, sharing trivia with Rukia on her latest manga, the next Tomoe’s thighs are closing around his ears and her bodyweight twist flips him into hard concrete and -fuck- he hisses because that hurt. She cushioned his head though, which was considerate of her in that under spoken way that only she manages.

She’s bruised his face and broken a bone before. Once. On the mat during training. She apologized once and then did his homework for three months while his arm healed. He didn’t find out that she swapped his shitty calligraphy and handwritten essays for her own for 5 weeks until he looking through his assignment late one night before exams and realizes she’s forged his handwriting well enough it even tricked him when he wasn’t pay attention. If she hurts someone by accident she fixes it the only ways she knows how.

Tomoe is livid. Rukia has a kidou canon pointed at her (which is something else that needs to be unpacked because a twitchy trigger finger on a woman who sleeps in his closet is not a good sign for his physical health).

“I fucking dare you,” Tomoe growls, eyes narrowed into angry slits and teeth bared like she might bite, “better kill me in one shot, Kuchiki-hime.” Her hands are holding his head in her lap so he moves to pry himself free. It’s not hard. She lets go quickly enough when his hands find hers. “And you- you coward fucking piece of-” her rage redirects.

“Sorry,” he apologises, because shes right, and then redirects “we can start now if you want.” The words rush out before she can explode on him. He doesn’t see her angry often. Maybe only twice in their entire relationship. Both of them over Tatsuki. She’s furious right now and Ichigo realizes he might be crossing a line.  “Homework’s not that important,” his words are only a little bitter on his tongue.

He did promise. And Tatsuki is her sister. He’s already failed to keep her safe once. Sora nearly killed her.

When did his life get to this point? When normalcy was being some spirit superhero and his friends are so scared they skip right to murderous intent. (Because Tomoe is scared. He can see it in the frantic way she picks her nails till they bleed and in how she tenses every time he switches place with Kon in the middle of class and in the way she scours him for fresh injuries every morning.)

Tomoe is like him, he thinks. She doesn’t care about herself very much. But if Tatsuki is involved the gloves are off and manners are optional.

Ichigo thinks he’d probably commit murder for his sisters. If there was a paedophile or something. His dads a doctor. Ichigo has access to the drug cabinet and could probably make it look like an accident.

Tomoe’s moral compass seems looser than his own. She’s smart too. She could definitely make it look like an accident.

He’s attention is scattered today. It’s the sleep deprivation probably. He pulls himself back to the present. 

Rukia’s kidou is gone but she’s a live wire and Ichigo vaguely realizes that Tomoe’s sneak attack was intentionally designed to wind her up. Rukia wouldn’t involve herself so Tomoe forced her hand. She doesn’t really like Rukia very much so she’s not inclined to break the news of her spiritual involvement gently. Ichigo might have forgotten to mention that Rukia hear their whole talk from the roof of his house.

“Good. You two are going to kick the shit out of me until I can kick the shit out a Hollow. Where can spiritual beings train, Kuchiki?” Tomoe calls her Rukia at school, not now though. She pulls Ichigo to his feet. “If it’s a fucking temple I swear...” she trails off stomping down the street as if she already knows exactly where to go and leaves Ichigo and a Rukia to rush to keep up.

At 4’10” Rukia’s really working hard. Hard enough she can barely ask any questions. Her fake body is horribly unfit. She does find the oxygen for one question though. “Why do you want to get involved? Surely you can’t be altruistic enough to want to help the spirits of this town?”

“Who said anything about helping spirits?” Tomoe throws over her shoulder, gun metal grey eyes sharp as his sword. “I’m selfish, Kuchiki. I help myself and I help my friends. I owe Ichigo a life debt.”

“Whoa, What?!” Ichigo asks, bewildered. Where did that come from?

Tomoe doesn’t answer and after a while she slows enough to let Rukia lead them down a dirt back ally to Urahara Shoten. The greedy shopkeepers store?

In retrospect, it makes sense to Ichigo that the shady man dealing in black market spiritual goods (Kon is, after all, a very illegal product) would have access to a training ground of some sort. How Rukia has this kind of human world contact is beyond him.

Rukia is polite when she introduced them all properly and requests access to a training space. She is rebuffed - unless she’s willing to pay? The fee is exorbitant.

Tomoe is not polite. Even his less than average energy sensing skills can feel the agitated static of her soul crushed under her skin so tightly it probably hurts.

“You’re memory replaces is kinda shite. Look what kind of mess you’ve dragged me into now. Ignorance was beautiful, I’ll have you know.”

“Guilt tripping, Miss Arisawa-san?” The hat and clogs guys asks behind his fan. Eyes much, much, too calculating.

Ichigo wishes he was out of his body so he could step in front of her.

“Hedging,” she replies immediately. “Kurakara is the most spiritually dense town I’ve ever heard of. Highest number of gas pipe bursts, random deaths, and unexplainable occurrences anywhere in the world. Hollows are everywhere all the time. There’s at least 8 people I can name off the bat who are spiritually aware and just in my class. Kuchiki’s energy isn’t returning at the same rate as anyone else I know.”

Ichigo prefers Tomoe when she’s laughing and smiling over dumb jokes and passing around innuendo and getting into fights in the street. Right now she’s as serious as death.

“Is that so?”

“Fact.”

“And this your hedge is, what exactly?”

“That you’ve got skin in the game and useful soldiers are hard to come by. We’ve all willingly walked in.”

“I’m just a shopkeeper, Arisawa-san. I don’t know exactly what you expect of me.”

 “Bullshit. Your cat is stronger than Ichigo, Rukia, and myself combined. So you’re definitely not just some random human shopkeeper.”

Ichigo hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the black cat perched on the counter at all until Tomoe pointed it out. It hasn’t been paying any attention until now either. It’s gold eyes are now laser focused on his little gang and he is feeling very scrutinized.

It laughs.

A very human sound coming from a very cat ... cat. It is a cat. And it is laughing. At the hat and clogs guy. Umamara. Whatever his name is.

“I like her, Kisuke,” the cat purrs, and leaps gracefully from the wooden countertop to the man’s shoulders, curling itself around his ears and dislodging the bucket hat slightly.

The man smiles, annoyingly cheerfully and not at all seriously (and there’s the ever present feeling of condescension that seems to permeate every field of Ichigo’s life right now). “Me too!”

He shows them the training room. It’s unbelievable. Ichigo doesn’t like Mr. Uramaha enough to actually compliment it but he thinks his mouth might be open so the point is mote. His appreciation is obvious.

Tomoe is ecstatic now that she’s down the mile-long ladder and has her feet in the dirt. “Thank you Mr. Urahara!”

Urahara (that’s his name! Ichigo will write it down later so he can remember it) preens. “It’s it just incredible?” He putters around for a few more minutes and then disappears back upstairs, leaving the trio to their own devices.

Personally, Ichigo thinks it’s beginning to feel a little like the start of a bad joke, but Tomoe has loosened up considerably now that the only thing between her and her goal is her own capacity to learn. 

Rukia notices the mood swing too, and that helps her unwind. That’s a good thing.

Ichigo soon regrets everything immediately. Rukia flips to drill sergeant mode and Ichigo’s unconscious body hits the dirt – ouch. Tomoe spends approximately three seconds appreciating his soul form – “Cute dress, Ichigo-chan!”

“It’s a hakama!” – before she flies at him with the intent to “maim and or seriously injure”.

Fortunately, it becomes rapidly apparent that his soul form hopelessly outclasses her, even without drawing his sword. Has he really gotten so good in such a short amount of time?

Tomoe’s grin is half feral. “Come on, Ichigo!” She’s always learned best under pressure, and Ichigo’s never really been bothered about punching girls. She did request an ass kicking after all.

Rukia shouts instructions and insults with just as much frequency from the sideline.

“Move your feet Ichigo, you slow cow!”

“Use your god damned reiatsu, Tomoe, that’s what you came here for!” 

“Don’t be sexist! Punch her harder! Aim for the face!”

“Channel your energy! Come on! Into your fists! Your _fists!_ ”

“Concentrate! Just! Uh!”

Most of her comments are useless. Ichigo doesn’t know what reiatsu is or how to use it, and Tomoe doesn’t either. He’s hoping she gets it just from working under the pump. Trial by fire.

In pure skill, Tomoe is a better fighter than Ichigo. She’s quick, light, flexible, and instinctively more attuned then he is. She can hit his pressure points with unerring accuracy, and she’s not shy to sneak a dirty shot every now and again.

Now though, when his body is as light as the atmosphere and his punches can dent rock if he’s not careful… Tomoe is on the ropes. Her forearms are already bruising from deflecting most of his hits.

Nothing broken, which means she’s got to be doing something right. Absorbing or deflecting the kinetic energy with spiritual power somehow.

Maybe he can do that same thing? Energy is energy is energy. First law of thermodynamics. He learned that last year in an introductory physics class. He has spiritual energy. Reiatsu is what Rukia’s calling it. He needs it to fight hollows. Rukia explained that much. So if he can just focus and use it.

 _Crack_!

Tomoe sneaks a fist through his guard and his head whips to the side with the force of the blow.

She lets out a low hiss and backs up, shaking her hand. “What is your face _made of?_ ”

Ichigo allows himself a smirk, “too much for you to handle?”

Tomoe glares and spins into a retaliatory round house, which Ichigo is very glad he dodges because Tomoe kicked like a donkey even without reiatsu. With it, even the wind feels heavy.

Rukia cheers from the side, “That’s it!”

They continue in the stream for barely another fifteen minutes before their spar deteriorates into a brawl. Ichigo’s taken a couple of hits, every one feeling harder than the last, but he gave as good as he got and only feels a little bad about the blossoming bruise on Tomoe’s jaw. He wins, naturally. He’s got nearly 10 kilos on her and that’s more than enough to make a difference in a brawl. 

She spends a minute trying to dislodge him from where he has her pinned on her stomach with an arm pulled awkwardly up her back and his knee digging painfully into the back of her thigh before the taps out. She’s out of breath and Ichigo feels like he has juice enough to run a marathon.

They go again.

* * *

 Urahara is impressed. Genuinely. A rare feat. It is entirely induced by humor and surprise, but that is hard to come by in the human world with only Tessai, Yuroichi, and more recently his kids.

Tomoe Arisawa is entirely unremarkable. He has tabs on her, on all of the possible spiritually aware people in this town. She barely even blips his radar for reiatsu enough to see a hollow. Her sister was more interesting than her by miles.

His calculations did not place her on the rooftop with the hollow centipede, a mod soul, and a Shinigami and her sidekick. It’s a good thing he brought the memory replacer just in case.

She _should_ _not_ have enough reiatsu to shake off the effects of the machine. Yet she did.

Urahara was entirely unprepared for her to walk into his store with Kuchiki and Kurosaki in tow and demand a training space. And then she _lied to him_. It is hysterical.

  1. There is no data on the number of soul or spirit related deaths in Kurakara because Urahara makes painstaking efforts to make Kurakara appear as _normal as possible._ He doesn’t know if Aizen is aware of the town or not - he almost certainly is- but the soul society on a whole is barely concerned with it and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. At the very least until Kurosaki is fully weaponized.
  2. Yuroichi’s reiatsu is unnoticeable in her cat form. That’s what makes it such a useful ability for the onmitsukido. How Arisawa knew anything about Yuroichi at all is a mystery.
  3. Her reiastu still reads only 1 point on his personal senses and on his mechanical ones. She is spiritually lacking. Mediocre. Booooring. So much so that he can never tell when she's throwing spiritual energy around during her training sessions in his downstairs bunker. 



She really was hollow hunting though. Rukia showed him her group chat on the soul pagers he provided the trio. And doing impressively well. She’d only needed to phone a friend in Ichigo on one occasion and that’s because the Hollow had wings.

Urahara has always liked a puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Whoop Whoop! 
> 
> It's kinda small, and reads more like a stream of consciousness than anything coherent, but I wanted to start moving the story along and the only way Tomoe was going to get off her ass and contribute was if it was on her own terms. 
> 
> Sorry I skipped over so much stuff (grand fisher etc). This isn't Ichigo's story, so I didn't feel it necessary to retell it to you. If you think I'm moving too fast though, please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Please enjoy some of my personal thoughts as I was writing this:
> 
> 1) Ichigo and Rukia's relationship should have started off a little more rocky. My dudes, Rukia is like... 80 or something. She's an adult and even though she gets pretty goofy and silly, the difference between an adult and a 15 year old is big. Have you ever met a 15 year old? Exactly. Rukia is his commanding officer. She likes him but I'm kinda convinced she doesn't have that may positive relationships in her life before meeting Ichigo. Having friend suddenly is weird and it takes her time to move from "Boss" to "Friend". 
> 
> 2) Ichigo is a teenager. As stated above. And a dramatic, nerdy, way-too-focused-on-how-others-perceive-him one at that. He probably quote shakespeare to himself while on the shitter or smt. He was born in the 80's. I did the math. The manga's first chapter is in 2000 and Ichigo is 15.
> 
> 3) Urahara is a scheming git. Love him. But he doesn't always have other peoples wellbeing at heart.
> 
> 4) Ichigo is bisexual. He might not quite realize that yet though. 
> 
> 5) Kubo did Chizaru dirty and I do not appreciate that shit. So instead of someone who gropes people, she's comfortable in her hyper sexuality and loves a good piece of gossip. 
> 
> 6) Mizoru is a slut. You can't change my mind.
> 
> 7) Ichigo thinks he makes Orihime uncomfortable because he has bad self esteem (probably stemming from his less than healthy home life) and thinks she's scared of the "Kurakara Delinquent". In reality she's got a big fat crush on him and like all people who have big fat crushes, is s u f f e r i n g in her own awkwardness and shyness.
> 
> Some more personal things from me. This story isn't really about shipping. I don't ship Ichiruki or Ichihime, don't G up at me about that please. This isn't an OCxIchi story either. But Teenagers are fucking morons and they have a lot of hormones flying around and many intrusive thoughts. Shit happens sometimes. And is the immediately followed by feelings of immense awkwardness and the desire to drink bleach.
> 
> Cheers Y'all! Please leave a comment so I can be VALIDATED xx  
> -Plouton


	6. Soft Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperfect plans are afoot

I dodge low, momentum and friction combining to roll me smoothly between the hollow’s hoof-like feet and land in a crouch, energy boiling in my foot an launching me upwards. What’s one more pothole anyway. My knee digs viciously into the space left and low of its hollow hole, right where its kidney should be. 

The hollow, large and unwieldy, stumbles forward a half step. It tries to turn and is too slow to defend against my roundhouse that cracks across it’s mask, whipping its head back around. A hand catches me, grips tight enough to bruise, and hurls me away. 

I land with a grunt, skin splitting against the gravel, but my power preventing any breaks from the rough treatment. A groan forces itself past my clenched teeth when I regain my feet, muscles throbbing in protest. The sensation is sharp and insistent. Running up and down my calves and thighs. Not a good sign.

Thank god it’s late. The cloud covered sky and dimly fluorescent street light offer only enough contrast to make out the hulking shape of the hollow. It’s collecting itself after my last attack, one hand clutching at the fractured maxilla, broken teeth pulverized underfoot with a caustic _crunch_. It moans, long and low, shaking it’s head, large antlers swaying and casting long fingerlike shadow on the washed-out garage door.

I take the moment to drop into a side lunge, stretching the left leg first, then the right. Willing them to stay strong and not fucking snap. I grit my teeth when the skittering sensation turns to pins and needles, in the soles of my feet. Definitely very not good. Especially since I was still a 30-minute jog from home. More now. There would be no help from my spirit powers.

I haven’t talked to Urahara about my weird growing pains yet, because fuck that. That man is not a trustworthy source of information. Yet.

I am a strong, independent woman and I’ll suck it up. What’s a couple pulled muscles really. I’ve had worse in training.

The hollow finally collects itself, reflective eyes throwing glitter back at me. It fixes on my silhouette and drops to all four limbs, preparing to charge. 

“Bring it, donkey,” I mutter, pushing the pain aside.

It doesn’t respond, only huffing steam into the cool July air. It’s long lost the mental faculties for conversation.  It charges, palms slapping the asphalt and hooves clicking, closing the distance.

I wait. Fifteen meters. Ten. Five.

It opens its mouth in a roar and I lurch to the side, faster than it can overpower it’s own inertia. 

My sneaker catches the hood of a car and I use it as a vault. Into the air, momentarily disappearing from the hollow’s field of vision. My fist lands through, devastating force through the back of it’s skull, straight through bone. Papier-mâché under my knuckles.

The resulting ‘pop’ of reshi surrounds me in a cloud of energy and coats my throat in a thick layer of brackish hollow dust. I cough, tense, when my leg seizes, and suck in another breath, breathing though the discomfort. I straighten up after a moment, relaxing my face from the scrunched up grimace and take a few assessing steps down the street.

 “Aw, crap” I swerve to the curb, and the leg gives out. I collapse with an ‘oof’. Maybe it’s from overused? I dig my fingers into my quad, massaging the muscle and grunt when the deep pressure isn’t enough to overwhelm the tenderness. The muscle feels like one big bruise.

This sucks.

I’m at least nine kilometers from home and I don’t think there’s a train station anywhere nearby. I glance up and down the stonewashed street and repress a shiver. Now that the hollows dead it feels weird to be out here on the back streets of Kurakara at 2am. I suck air in between my teeth in a whistle. “Weird.” My voice echoes almost eerily down the street and I decide it’s time to go.

I push my fingers down the muscle one more time before pushing myself to my feet. I need to go home. Get some sleep. We’re almost at the exam period any I need to study! Sort of. Not really. I learned all of this stuff before, but it doesn’t hurt to have good grades. I start my slow trudge home before something at the edge of my senses tingle. I twist in the general direction; the stiff muscles in my neck protest slightly. Am I going to wake up with a kink in it tomorrow?  

Ichigo lands on a rooftop behind me, with a heavy ‘thump thump’ of sandaled feet on tile. “Yo,” he waves a hand, eyes fixed on the soul pager in his other hand.

I pulled my own pager, a gift from Urahara in exchange for a handling a few menial chores, out of my pocket to confirm that the hollow’s signal was truly gone and the area was secure. It wouldn’t be the first time a hollow came to the smell of a soul in extremis. Predators with a nose for blood in the water, reshi in the air.

Fortunately, tonight is quiet.

“I thought we decided I’d cover Sakurabashi?” I ask as Ichigo jumps down next to me.

He shrugs, still fiddling with the pager for another moment before shoving it between the white folds of his belt wrap. “The pager is broken. Was there a hollow here?”

“Not anymore. Killed it five, ten minutes ago.”

“Well it’s busted. I ran all the way out to Yumisawa and the signal disappeared literally moments before I got there.”

“Oh what? Did something else get it?”

Ichigo scoffs, “Yeah right. We’d never be so lucky.”

I shrug, “Just an idea. This town is saturated with spiritual shit. I wouldn’t be surprised. Is it another Shinigami?”

Ichigo growls at that. “It better not be, otherwise I could be home right now. _Sleeping._ ”

“Here, here.” I agree and immediately move to stifle a yawn. I rub a hand against the back of my neck and yawn again.

Ichigo’s yawns too and makes a grumpy face. “You’re contagious.”

I retaliate with a nudge to the ribs, and turn to walk down the street back home.

Ichigo, the bastard, has a different idea though and grabs me around the waist, hefting me over his shoulder. “Hey hey hey! Put me down!” I yelp, squirming against the uncomfortable joint that’s digging into my stomach.

“No-pe.” He pops the ‘p’, then starts into a jog, gaining speed before leaping the 10 meters onto the nearest roof. Two stories off the ground.

“Ichigo, Ichigo if you don’t put me down right now-“

“What, what’re you gonna do? Huh?” He jostles me teasingly.

I pinch his ass and he yelps a very high pitched note that he will definitely never admit making. “Put me down or I’m gonna slap it next.”  

“I will leave you up here!” He threatens, throwing himself over the edge of a building and onto the house below. His shoulder digs in again forcing a pained hiss out. My threat rings true though and he pauses on the slanted tiles to put me down and offer a piggy back instead. “Come on. Your place is just around the corner anyways.”

He tactfully doesn’t mention how gingerly I’m holding myself. “Fine.” I clamber on, locking my knees over his hips, careful not to kick the zanpakuto, and clasping my elbows so I don’t choke him.

He readjusts me slight, hiking me up a little and takes off again. “How’s the studying going?”

It’s weird and surreal that between all of the fighting there are respites of homework and exams to think about. “Math sucks, but I’m going to murder the Spanish exam. The written part at least.”

“Is Chad helping you study?”

“Yup, he’s an awesome tutor.”

Ichigo pauses at the edge of a building. The street below is slightly busier, even at this time of night due to a small string of bars. While Ichigo could normally cross by himself along the powerlines, it would be weird if one of the bouncers looked up and spotted me.

“How are you holding up?” I ask.

Ichigo shrugs, as if my weight on his shoulders meant nothing, “I’m fine.”

I frown and take the moment to scrutinize him a little. My vantage point isn’t great, but even from this angle I could see the downturn of his lips and the bags under his eyes. He’s been looking better since I started picking up some of the slack, hollow hunting in the nearby precincts, allowing Ichigo to focus on the ones out of my range. He’s been getting more sleep, and found the time to catch up on his school work. Still, the words ’I’m fine’ have never inspired much hope. But also talking about feeling? Ew. No.

I readjust my grip slightly. “Get more sleep, and tell Rukia to stuff it if she starts pissing you off.”

“It’s not her fault.” Ichigo launches us over the final rooftop between us and my home.

“It’s kinda her fault-” we land “-but that’s not what I meant.” I unhook my ankles and push off his back. It’s funny. At 5’8” Ichigo usually tower over me, but he manages to feel even taller when in his spirit form. I land flatfooted and the shock shoots up my back. I ignore it to step in front of Ichigo. “I mean that she lives with you and studies with you and literally never leaves you alone. You’re allowed to set boundaries. She doesn’t need to be with you all the time.”

Ichigo glances away and sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s what they all say,” I offer in a sing song tune and dodge back just in case Ichigo decides to take a swing.

He doesn’t, but his scowl deepens. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. If that pager wakes me up one more time, I swear-” his threat trails off as he turns to go before realizing I’m still standing in the middle of the street, two stories down from my window. “Do you need a boost up to your window?”

“Chivalry isn’t dead, nice to know.”

“Shuddup.” It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting, but I think he’s blushing. He always disliked recognition for being a good person. He says it’ll ruin his image.

I shake my head. “I got this,” and step into a jog to gather the momentum I need to vault onto the fence surrounding my house before following it around to the side of the building. With a final wave to Ichigo I jump to the thin windowsill outside of my room and slip inside. In bed before three. Not too bad all things considered.

* * *

“How interesting,” Urahara Kisuke hums, his chin in his hand as he contemplates me over the checkout counter. Sharp eyes assess, flicking over my rather boring features before dropping lower to my chest.

Suddenly mortified, I cross my arms defensively and snap: “Eyes up here, asshat!”

Yuroichi sits patiently on Urahara’s shoulder and digs her claws in. Little pinpricks into his skin, earning herself a yelp. “Pervert,” she says, sounding rather monotonous for the flailing and pained apology Urahara puts out.

It is all an act to them, probably, but it makes me relax. It is almost disturbing how easily the two wore their respective masks. One, a booksmart, if socially inept shopkeeper with a perverted streak and playful disposition, and the other a weathered and wearily disdainful cat.

Even knowing more about them than either Urahara or Yuroichi could possibly suspect, they still managed to throw me off.

“Ah! My apologies Arisawa-san! I assure you, I was only looking for you Hakusui. It’s typically located in the center of one’s chest or just over their heart.” Urahara explains. His closed fan, previously clutched against the counter now points at the place the Hakusui would be.

I don’t uncross my arms but my posture relaxs slightly. “Hakusui?”

Urahara hums again, “it is the source of one’s spiritual powers.”

“And my Hakusui is interesting how?”

“It’s not,” comes the immediate reply. Urahara gazes pensively from under his hat, keen eyes once again tracing over my body. Suddenly, he snaps open his fan and turns towards the door separating the main store front from the rest of the building. “If you wouldn’t mind following me, Arisawa-san? I’m sure you have many questions. This may take a while.”

I scowl. “My mother always warned me not to follow strange men into strange places.” I say, though I follow him to the door.

“But you’re coming anyway!” Urahara sounds delighted.

“Yeah, well, I figured you’ve already blanked my memory once and I didn’t even know you were there until it’s too late. If either of you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.” 

Urahara chuckles and leads the way down a hallway and into a small dining area where he claims a seat at the chabudai in the center of the room. Yuroichi gracefully dismounts from her perch on his shoulder to curl up on her own cushion. Her twitching tail to beckons me further into the room and onto my own seat.

I claim the spot across from Urahara. Even though I know he’s somewhat trustworthy, enough to not kill me without reason, something still set me on edge about being isolated in a room with two people who massively outgunned me. Survival instinct. I cross my legs to exhibit the illusion of calmness but ensure I can quickly regain my feet if necessary. “We’re in the back room now. So explain.”

Urahara seems unfazed by my rude demeanour and fans himself softly, taking his time to speak. It’s a level of careful consideration in his words that I lack. “As I said earlier. Your Hakusui is average. Completely so. Have you seen many spirits?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“The chain protruding from the spirit is called the Inga no Kusari. The chain of fate. In a human that chain binds one’s soul to their body. When they die, that chain is severed. The Hakusui resides beneath this chain.”

“O-Kay? And mines in the center of my chest.”

Urahara shakes his head slightly, as if I was missing the point. I probably was. “Yes. It’s hypothesized that unusual placement of a Hakusui can have unusual consequences. Yours _appears_ completely normal, though it’s hard to say without further examination.”

“You can’t touch my chest.” 

Urahara laughs and hides himself behind his fan, “Why, I would never suggest such a thing.”

“I’m setting boundaries,” I say seriously. “Ok so if unusual placement of Hakusui is a discarded hypothesis, what’s next?”

 Yuroichi speaks up, “the unusual thing here isn’t your hakusui. There have been lots of instances of humans developing Reiryoku-“

“Reiryoku is spiritual energy?”

Urahara nods before I finish my question, “are you often attacked by hollows? Have you seen many in your vicinity?” He changes the topic. “Without of course, looking for them yourself.”

I pause to recall. “No,” I start slowly. Now that I think about it… I’ve never even seen a hollow before Kon dragged me out of the classroom. I used to hear them at night, but they never actively seemed to come for me, even now.

Urahara doesn’t give me a chance to chase my lien of thought. “Give me your wrist?” He asks, reaching across the table with a palm up.

“Why?” But I put a hand into his reach and only flinch a little when he wraps his own around my wrist, fingers resting at my pulse.

“Because I can’t feel very much Reiatsu from you,” he says as if that explains everything.

“I’m suppressing it? Isn’t that an instinctive thing?”

"Are you?” He releases my wrist, grey eyes flickering to Yuroichi then back to me. The look on his face is skeptical. “What do you know about reiatsu?”

“It’s the external pressure created by releasing ones spiritual energy, right?”

“And how,” he leans on the table with his elbows, the paper fan held at both ends between his long fingers, “do you think one goes about releasing their reiryoku?”

I think for a moment, recalling the few times I’ve needed to fight so far. The first time I consciously used my spiritual powers was on the rooftop with Kon. Trying and failing to force my power to flow in a way that could be used. I remember the sensation of sand turning to glass in my veins, too caught up in the rage and fear of the moment to recall how the glass shredded my own muscles as easily as it ripped into the hollow. Every instance since then has been more uncomfortable than the last - glass to metal to diamond shards under my skin. Muscles protesting after every battle.

 

“Is some sort of conduit needed? Ichigo has a sword,” I trail off. Ishida has a bow. Orihime will have her hair pins. Chad won't have anything like that though.

Urahara beams and I can feel myself smile in response. Sucker for praise. “Good guess, but you’re completely wrong!”

I deflate. Even after restarting my life I never quite got over the need to be right about everything all the time.

“Kurosaki-kun is a shinigami, his outlets will be different to yours. And contrary to popular belief, the primary outlets are not in his sword but at his wrists. Spiritually sensitive humans like yourself tend to be more unconventional.” Urahara explains, rather patiently and I an sense the growing weight of a boot about to drop. “You have none.”

There it is. “What?! Is that bad? That sounds bad.”

Urahara snaps his fan shut, effectively cutting off any rambling I might have started. “Up until the last few weeks this has been fine! In fact, it’s probably what’s been protecting you from Hollows. Even though you’ve likely always had an above average amount of reiryoku, your lack of outlets means your undetectable. It’s _fascinating_. I’ve never seen anything like this.” Urahara leans forward, narrowing the space between us.

I lean back. I don’t like feeling like some sort of anomaly to be studied. “So what I’ve still be able to use my reiryoku in a fight.”

He leans back again. “You’ve been internally augmenting your own body to allow yourself to do superhuman feats. It’s a flimsy technique at best and your body is suffering for it.”

“It’s not sustainable,” Yuroichi cuts in, sensing my growing discomfort. “There’s a shinigami technique similar to what you’re doing but in order for it to work the reiryoku must be gathered _outside_ the body. I’ve experimented quite a bit with the technique. The side effects are not good.”

My attention flickers between the pair. This is… Admittedly not great. Especially considering the combat is only going to ramp up from here. First with whatever bullshit I remember Ishida feeling the need to pull, and later with Rukia’s impending kidnapping hanging over our heads. There’s just _no time_ to learn anything else right now. “Well, it’s painful but I can manage it.”

Yuroichi snorts and readjusts on the cushion, an ear flickering at Urahara.  “That’s not an option.”

“It’s the only choice I have.”

“Since you’ve hit your spiritual growth spurt so to speak, all of your Reiryoku is increasing at a really rapid rate. It’s bottling up inside of you,” Yuroichi starts.

“You’re going to burst.” Urahara takes over.

“Like a balloon,” Yuroichi adds, “or a bomb,” and I’m beginning to wonder if these two just don’t have any tact between them at all. It must all go to Tessai.

The news sits heavy in the air for a moment. Crap. Ok.   

I aim for humorous. “Physically? sound gore-y.” I look down at my hands curled in my lap, and flex one slightly, feeling the uncomfortable slide of my too tight skin. At least I know now. 

“Probably not physically. You’ll be forcefully ejected from your body when you spirit grows too large to be contained and then you spiritual body will implode.” Urahara makes a little crushing motion with a hand and I wince.

Of course the girl who’s reincarnated in a different universe has some weird shit going on. Who woulda thunk it. To make it worse, Urahara is the only solution I have, and if I remember correctly, he’s notorious for withholding crucial information until the last possible second. He probably hasn’t told me everything. He probably won’t either.

“So how do I fix it?”

“Fix it?” Urahara cocks his head slightly, “I’ve been thinking about this since Rukia first brought you here to train. I have a few theories but they still need some work.”

“You have some theories?”

“Yup! I noticed this back when Kuchiki-san first brought you to us, so I’ve had some time to think.”

I frown at his easy confession, “and you didn’t mention this sooner?”

Urahara draws his fan across his face, almost sheepishly, “To be honest, I didn’t expect your spiritual abilities to grow so quickly. I didn’t believe there would be any issue for another several months at least.”

“Right.” That doesn’t sound like the whole truth, but I doubt I’d get anything else out of him by being a pest.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll begin right away,” he clambers to his feet. “Arisawa-san, I’ll collect you when I’m ready. In the meantime, please refrain from doing anything particularly stupid." 

Before I can finish processing Urahara's sentence he is across the room and pulling the hallway door closed behind him.

Ok then. Rude.

“Don’t mind him,” Yuroichi pulled my attention from the door. “He gets like this when he’s got an interesting puzzle to solve.” Her ear flicks when a door in the back of the Shōten slams.

“Ah,” I hum in understanding. He hyperfixates. That seems on brand.

“In the meantime,” Yuroichi continues, “I’m taking you off the Kurakara Hollow Hunting Detail. No hollow fighting-“

“What!?” No, no, absolutely not. If Ishida does something stupid…

“-Or training for you,” she ignored my interruption.

“But what if a hollow attacks me or-” does she even know about Tatsuki? Fuck it, I’ll assume so, “-Tatsuki, I can’t do _nothing—_ “

“There are no ‘what if’s’, Arisawa.” She narrows her stern gold eyes. “The balloon analogy is very accurate. If you blow it up too much from the inside, it’ll pop. But if you squeeze too hard from the outside, the balloon will also pop. Fighting a hollow _will_ _end badly.”_ Her voice drops lower, stone cold serious.

I suppress a shiver. “I-“ I swallow, “noted. But it’s my life to place at risk. It’s my choice.”

She shrugs. It’s an unnatural gesture on the shoulders of a cat. “Die then. But you can’t help anyone if your dead. You can’t protect your sister.”

I look down at my lap, fingers still itching with that uneasy tightness I could now explain. Guilt tripping, ugh. Rude that it’s working too. “Ugh.” I express the thought out loud. “When should I come back?”

Yuroichi’s tail flicks, a clear sign of dismissal. “We’ll page you. Try not to blow yourself up.”

* * *

 

“Kisuke.” Yuroichi approaches him from behind, making her presence known with soft footfalls and a purr in her voice.

He has to glance over his shoulder to see her. “Yeah. I noticed.” The man tilts his head, letting the little light of the setting sun catch on the brim of his hat, a knife edge shadow cutting across his cheekbones. “Rather interesting, couldn’t you agree? I want to see what happens next.”

Yuroichi cocks her head to the side, purple curls spilling over brown skin, gold eyes fixed on the scientist who holds the fate of a girl in his whims. “How cruel.” 

“Perhaps,” he smiles, sharp and exposed. The fan is nowhere in sight, likely hidden up his sleeve. “Don’t worry too much. I did promise to help her… It simply depends on how long she can hold out. 15 years so far, surely another few weeks won’t be the end.”

Yuroichi laughs lightly, “You shouldn’t play with your food.”

Urahara supplies an amused look at her joke and retaliates with, “Do find time to say hello to Soi-fon. She must miss you dearly.” He chuckles when she rolls her eyes at him. 

“Don’t be jealous now. Despite what you insist on wearing,” she gestures at his ensemble, “green really isn’t your color.”

“Oh?” He cocks an eyebrow and leans back, providing her a better view. They’ve been playing this game for years after all.

“Yes, black always suited you better,” her lips curl into a smirk.

He laughs then. “You mean when I was under you?”

She shrugs a shoulder, smirk turning coy, “If that’s how you want to phrase it.” Long fingers trace the door handle before pulling it along the track. Closing it behind her with a firm bang. 

* * *

 

Ichigo shrugs when I tell him Urahara’s verdict. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He tries not to be mad at me, which I appreciate, even though he reserves the right to be upset. I feel bad that I’m leaving him to defend the town by himself.

He always places everyone else first and himself second, shoving his feelings and emotions down into some seemingly endless pit until he explodes. Usually on some unsuspecting bully. I think it’s some maladaptive coping mechanism he developed when he was young and exacerbated by Isshin’s authoritarian meets negligent “parenting”.

Guilt isn’t an emotion I feel very often. Usually because I don’t give a shit about most people and therefore don’t need to worry on how my actions. With the exception of Tatsuki, sometimes Orihime if she affects Tatsuki, and Ichigo. Three people… and I suppose my parents, but I’ve never done anything to really upset them before. So to see Ichigo look so… downtrodden is not doing great things for me.

I catch my lip between my teeth, worrying the skin and avoid his gaze. Stupid brown puppy dog eyes. “Sorry.”

“No!” He says immediately, reaching a hand out to my shoulder, “Don’t be sorry for not doing something that may kill you. That’s ridiculous. It’s just,” he falters and lets his hand drop, “It’s my fault you got caught up in this mess to begin with. And now you’re in pain because of my carelessness.”

I frown and kick him in the shin, hard enough to pull his skittering eyes back to mine. “Now who’s being ridiculous.” 

“Oi!”

“I’m serious!” I shove myself into his space, “I’ve been seeing hollows for a lot longer then you have, I would have been involved one way or another. You couldn’t have stopped me.”

“Yeah, but-“

“SHUSH!” He closes his mouth with a click. I stare him down.

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yeah, I did. You’re gonna say something dumb anyway. What about it?”

Ichigo narrows his eyes and brings a hand down on my head in a nuggie. “Brat!”

“Oi! Oi!” I bat his hand away and duck out of reach, hands moving to comb my dark strands back into their usual bob style. “Hands off!”

He snorts in amusement, feinting towards my hair.

I screech and back even further out of his range, blocking his follow up lunge with my forearm. “Just cuz you don’t ever brush your hair doesn’t mean you can fuck mine up!”

“I do brush my hair! It’s just an awkward length!” Ichigo argues back, and that’s the end of our touchy feely moment about my failing powers.

 

* * *

 

“Come spar with me?” My sisters voice pulls my attention from the textbook in my lap. It’s the first day since Yuroichi and Urahara told me I was burning from the inside out and I’m already restless. My leg’s been bouncing under the desk all day and my notebook filled with nonsense doodles. Little tornado scribbles, swirls, eyes of pitch. Masks and teeth and harshly shaded sand dunes under abyssal skies. Subconscious, half remembered dreamscapes.

Tatsuki can tell something’s wrong. She’s always known when I’ve been feeling off with a supernatural sixth sense.

“Nah.” Her concern is cute. I’ll always be fine. “You don’t want my dirty boxing in your fancy karate ring weeks before nationals.” It was an age old argument between the two of us since I switched from karate to MMA, and one that Tatsuki had very strong opinions on. “I’m just gonna sit here and read my book. Study. Exams are coming up.”

My sister snorts. Unamused brown eyes rolling at my dry comment. “You’re going to get slow.”

“Go train with Orihime or Chizaru, Tatsu-chan” I suggest instead, nodding towards were the pair were running through drills together, and wrap myself around the textbook.

Tatuski and I used to be closer.

She crawls into my bed that night, warm knuckles nudging me to make space; it’s unusually soft of her. She usually heads straight to anger before backtracking to words. “Is something happening?”

I stare at her in the dim light, barely inches between us and yet it feels like a chasm. It would be so easy to fix, to offer to build a bridge. “Teenage angst,” I whisper instead and what could have been a profound moment of sisterly connection, of personal growth, became cheap.

She pinches me, hard and

I was never good with words. Worse with feelings. Tatsuki always understood that, which is why she only tangled our fingers together and held the silence. I’ll tell her when this is all sorted out and before we leave after Rukia’s impending kidnapping. I owe her that much.

* * *

[](https://gyazo.com/76b09a51f8915c271ff232c7741a397b)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short update, my bad. Stay patient please! There is a little okama blurb too!
> 
> I wonder what Urahara knows that Tomoe doesn't? Hmmmmm??? Suspicious sketchy man!
> 
> Note: If you read "Yuroichis purple curls" you read right! She's a black woman and I gave her curls, cuz Kubo the coward wouldn't.
> 
> Story time:  
> Briefly, over one summer period between semesters I got it in my head to work multiple jobs at once. I needed the money. I had a full time job as a research assistant which I was supposed to work 9-5 but I got permission to work 7-3 instead, then I was working part time as an editor (hysterical, I know, considering I’ve never proofread a single fucking chapter of this fic) which I could do online as long as I logged 16 hours a week. I mostly did this during the commute (1 hour from home to the office then 1.5 hours from the office to my second night job, which amounted to 12.5 hours and I could make up the extra over my lunch break and weekend if needed. The I worked week nights at a restaurant at the bar or as a runner if we were swamped, from 5 to 1. I’d be home by 2, leaving for work the next day at 6. On the weekend I worked at a café, just down the road form where I lived, it was right on the beach and really beautiful. I was simultaneously house sitting and dog sitting for a friend. I was so so so tired. 
> 
> There is no fucking way Ichigo isn’t absolutely shattered. I don’t care how much of a boost superpowers give you, that boy is 15 and tired. He’s at school every day from 8.45-3.15, doing his homework, then spending the rest of the time hollow hunting (and in this story also training with Rukia and Tomoe). My point is: Just let the boy sleep! Dang. 
> 
> Tomoe is struggling here. Blatantly. This is the upper edge of a spiral. Let’s see where it goes! (because while all I want to do is wrap ichigo in a blanket and maybe bubble wrap, tomoe can have the shit.)


End file.
